


crippled

by nishiki



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst?, Depression, Disability, Established Relationship, Gen, Injury Recovery, M/M, Maria/Robert (mentioned), Maybe - Freeform, Modern AU, Post-Break Up, Trauma Recovery, actually not set in America this time, after Assassins Creed 1, angry Altair I guess, hopefully fluff, probably a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 94,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Al Mualim's death Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad is now the new leader of the assassin's brotherhood. Things are finally looking up again for the brotherhood and the assassins and Malik Al-Sayf is about to go back to Jerusalem after he did what he could to safe the brotherhood. But then a horrific accident chains him to the fortress once more and even though he finally managed to forgive Altaїr for his doing in Solomon's temple the shadows of the past are haunting him once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog

Malik Al-Sayf had never thought himself to be a good person or a pure-hearted creature. Malik Al-Sayf had never thought himself to be a bad person either. He was an assassin … Well … No. He was not. Not anymore. He had been an assassin for as long as he could remember, being born into the brotherhood to a father who had been born into the brotherhood before him, but this now seemed not only to be from another time but even another life. Now he was nothing more than the Dai of Jerusalem, the bureau leader of this big and lively, of this noisy and dangerous city. From now on he was nothing more than the one-armed-pathetic-cripple, who still clung to his white robes and his sword underneath the dark blue coat of a Dai like it was a matter of life and death.

Once he had been the _King of Swords_ and even though his name was still shouting this title the others gave him a long time ago into the world like a never ending cruel joke, the _King of Swords_ was dead and gone now. He was of no use for the brotherhood in his current condition. He still could defend himself if necessary, still could wield a blade, but fighting - no, there was no way to call it that. But he could at least try to help his brothers whenever they came into the city and searched for guidance and advice in his bureau. Precisely those brothers who would mock him behind his back, who would call him a cripple or - and that was even worse - would pity him.

He had been born into the order - into this brotherhood - and that was exactly what he was taught: Those who fought alongside him and followed the same objective he should see as his brothers and never in his life had this been harder to do. He had learned to kill from a very young age on. He learned to kill without feeling remorse. He did what needed to be done. That was how it always had been and always would be. Killing was not the indicator to tell a good person from a bad person. He knew that. There were many bad people wandering through Jerusalem's streets like a creeping illness who never killed a single soul and nearly just as many good people who already killed a dozen.

Other than this good and evil really were two sides of the very same coin anyway and in the strict sense nothing more than a question of perspective. Anyway. The moment he saw him - this damned man - leap from the highest tower of the fortress of Masyaf, this majestic stone fortress in the mountains; the moment he saw him _fall_ and heard the scream when his body hit one of the wooden bars outside on the tower's wall and then crashed inside the hay, was exactly the moment when Malik needed to reconsider the judgment he made over his own soul long ago. He had wasted what felt like an eternity with simply watching his fellow brothers running towards the hay at the tower's foot where the novices normally practiced their first leaps of faith, towards the screaming man lying buried in the hay who Malik once had hated with every fiber of his sole being.

He could not move. He could not even move one of his five remaining fingers. He could only stare - not down to the hay where the clueless assassins stood and blocked his sight - but up. High above. Up to the highest point of the tower where he could see a dark figure vanishing into the shadows of the building.

His legs moved on their own, finally moved him forward and a dull pain grabbed his left arm - the arm that was not there anymore, the arm that had no right to feel pain anymore after it left him. Without even noticing it, Malik grabbed his left shoulder and his fingers moved down over the dark blue fabric of the Dai's cloak, down to where the rest of his remaining arm ended and the emptiness began. But when he looked at his arm there was no dark blue fabric and no pinned up sleeve, only white. White and a sun-kissed hand with five faultless fingers. He could move them, bend them, feel them and yet he knew they weren't real. Slowly he walked on and climbed the small knoll where the tower watched over the village beyond and the assassins - novices and masters - parted in front of him like the red sea once did in front of Moses. He did not look at a single face; their faces were only a palette of shades of brown smeared into the world around him anyway. They all looked the same. Only blotches.

The voice of Rauf met his ears and then he saw the man by the hay. The poor fool was crouching next to the pile and called for his brothers to help him. Whatever he needed help with. Malik did not care as much for him and his need for help. Rauf lost all the color to his face, it was only gray and his eyes big like plates because of the sudden shock and the horror he was met with. And when Malik finally reached him and the hay there was much less blood than he had expected to find.

He simply watched the figure which lay motionless in the hay, broken and twisted like an old, stupid clay doll or a wooden toy soldier at best. The body had forgotten where up and down was, had forgotten where the legs and where the head needed to be. It was a horrific mess of limbs and broken, shattered bones, but Malik did not care because he was not in Masyaf anymore.

The world around him was dark and only lit by a handful of lazily burning torches around him. The air was dusty and cool. He was back in Solomon's temple underneath the temple mount in Jerusalem, the city which was to be his grave one day - the grave of a living person damned to live a life in the shadows. When the structure broke down behind Altaїr the noise was deafening and nearly robbed him of his orientation. He knew without even bothering to investigate that there was no way to meet up with Altaїr again and that there was no way for him and his little brother to escape either.

Kadar. Yes. Was he now forced to relive the last minutes of his baby brother's life again and again and again without having the slightest chance to do anything about it? He felt how his body moved without his doing. His left arm worked with the precision he was used to and his right arm parried, hit, parried, hit, parried, hit, parried, and missed. Pain. The singing of the swords hitting against one another was deafening and filled the world inside his head while he watched himself moving forward. He ignored the pain which was his left arm. He did what needed to be done, he fought, he had one single objection and he would fulfill it because Altaїr hadn't done it. Altaїr had let himself got misguided by his own arrogance. Altaїr had broken all three tenants of the creed and Malik would go home again to tell everybody the truth.

But Malik knew already how the story would find its end and even though he knew this he could only watch and participate, only play along and fulfill his role in this absurd play. And then it was over, after what felt like hours, the fight was over. Robert de Sable would notice the loss of the Apple in a few hours and so he and his remaining men - those who managed to escape Malik's fury - left the moribund assassin behind.

And yet Malik had no wish to die. It was not the right time to die. His left arm was torn into pieces; the wound was deep, so deep it was quite a miracle that his arm had not already fallen off on its own. It was only a hideous bloody mess which hung uselessly from his body. But then he saw Kadar laying in the dirt and the dust, his beloved baby brother, who he had held in his arms when he had not been older than four years himself. Even today he still remembered the smell of the newborn brother and the feeling of holding this little clump of a human being in his arms. Kadar war an infant once again, when Malik fell down beside him into the dirt and blood on the dusty ground, between the ruins the precious child was lying in. And then he pulled him once again into his arms and stroked his soft, moist cheeks with his bloody fingers. He was not nearly big enough to hold his little brother the right way, but he had nagged and besieged and pouted until his poor father Faheem Al-Sayf had given up with a small laugh. He had pushed all the pillows he could find around Malik and then he had laid the newborn child into his big brother's, greedy, fat arms.

Kadar's blue eyes glistened up to his big brother and the little squeal of the baby was only a phantom somewhere inside his martyred mind. Now his brother was coughing and with that, a gush of blood flooded over his lips and his chin. His brother's blue eyes looked up at him again and Malik could see his own reflection in them, before the light in Kadar's eyes died away and his eyelids fell shut. Malik had no strength in his left arm and yet he pulled the child tighter against his chest and felt how his brother's body was shaken by his violent sobs. He desperately wished himself to be four years old again, wished to hold his baby brother again in his arms to protect him from all the evil in the world, but the evil had stolen him right from his arms.

"He's alive!" Rauf then called and the sun over Masyaf was burning down on his head once again, the cool air of Solomon's temple had vanished and the clear blue sky was mocking him.

 _Yes_ , Malik thought, _of course, he is alive. He is way too stubborn to go and leave us in peace_. Malik watched how the amber eyes opened, but it was nothing more than a flutter of the eyelids before they fell shut again and his breathing was nothing more than a rasp to no avail, a last rebelling before the inevitable.

"Help me! We need a doctor! Help me to get him inside!" Rauf then yelled and really a few men came to his aid and shoved Malik, the cripple who could not do anything anyway, to the side.

But Malik only smiled and stepped aside, cleared the way so his brothers could carry the injured man, their new leader away and he could not help but think that this very day was judgment day and that finally Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad had been given his rightful punishment.

"Let him die. He is only a cripple now anyway."


	2. Phase I - Denial

**Phase I**

**\- Denial -**

_Let me fly once again_

_Like I did way back when_

_I would gamble and win_

_To lift me high above the din_

_Of the future we see_

_Does it hold something for me?_

_I'm weightless again_

_Just before the shadows..._

_Poets of the fall, "given and denied"_

 

High above Masyaf an eagle was circling and cast his large shadow over the fortress and its inhabitants. The majestic bird of prey had its nest up high in the highest tower of said fortress, exactly the very tower only the bravest novices dared to try their first leaps of faith off; exactly that very tower which played an important role during the siege of the fortress and in which once, over a decade ago, the fate of one young assassin had been decided and with that not only his but even the fate of another fellow child.

Sometimes, in one of those chilly summer nights, when you would just listen closely enough the wind was still whispering the shouts of a boy calling out for his father who was decapitated in front of the fortresses gates and whose death still emitted on the events unfolding inside the fortress fifteen years later.

Malik Al-Sayf stood by the window in the tower of the mentor - in his room to be correct. Al Mualim had preferred his rooms much closer to the ground, but the new mentor of the assassin brotherhood was always yearning for high places and for the air and for being close to the sky. His name meant _the flying one_ and not _The Eagle_ , how many of the novices failed to acknowledge. The highest room up the highest tower was only suitable for him when he finally moved into the fortress a few weeks ago. To be honest Malik never really knew where Altaїr had been living before. He had not lived on the fortress's grounds at least - not after he finished his apprenticeship many years ago and had been bound to live his life among the other novices inside the fortress - and some people even said that he had lived like a nomad always travelling, always on missions, always on the way to proof to everyone (and himself) how brave, how valiant, how ambitious he really was and that he earned his rank as master assassin (the youngest to ever hold this title in the history of the brotherhood) and not because he was the former master's favorite. Malik could not really believe that theory.

Where ever Altaїr had been living before, he at least possessed some furniture. Furniture which the poor novices needed to carry up all those stairs up the narrow staircase inside the tower, but at least they had been lucky and it really was not much they needed to carry. Assassins were living humble lives and most of his furniture looked like it was self-made - and that not really professional, how the Dai addressed whilst inspecting the stuff to mock Altaїr. It was not like he had not asked Altaїr about the furniture which he called his own, but he had not got an answer out of him. Altaїr had only grinned a little in this very particular way only he could muster: the right corner of his mouth slightly higher than the left which made his scar look only all the more prominent and set him apart from all the other hooded figures of the fortress so easily.

His gaze laid on the grounds of the fortress that day and all the more down on the training ring which could be watched from up here. Far below Rauf was training with the novices. Rauf - this good soul of Masyaf. He certainly was not the most competent, perhaps not even the cleverest one, but he was a good man with his heart on the right spot and he understood his trade. Not every assassin was able to teach, that simply was part of the way they were living. They all were somewhat like lone warriors and most of them which would be good enough to teach were normally too vain for it. Rauf, on the other hand, did not seem to know what vanity was at all. Whenever one of his novices managed to defeat him in combat he was more joyous than the novice himself. He was a born teacher and that made Rauf essential to this place.

He still remembered very vividly how he himself had fought against the old instructor down there - a horrible man, with a long unkempt beard and clothes stinking after sweat and urine. He really had not had the degree of humility that Rauf possessed. He had hated it when his novices managed to defeat him and never took it as a success of his teaching, but more as an affront against his person. A small part of him had been thankful that his little brother did not need to learn from that guy because (sadly) he had died right before Kadar was about to start his training with him and then Rauf followed in his footsteps soon after. Even now Malik caught himself hearing his little brother cursing under his breath: " _Rauf knows no mercy, Malik! I can't believe he is your age! He's even worse than the teacher for poison! Never has he granted me a break! Do you even know that he told me to repair the stools in the dining room today? What does that have to do with wielding a sword, Malik? Yes, I'm asking you, Malik! Why did he do that?_ "

Kadar had been but a child when he died, at least in his brother's eyes, a child who had loved to moan about all the wrong in the world and about his teachers. And still, Malik remembered how his brother's blue eyes always glistened as if he was secretively glad he could rant about something, even though he had already known his big brother's reaction. No, Malik had not had mercy with the younger one and with that, every try of his baby brother to get Malik on his side against the evil teachers had been in vain.

But in all honesty, Malik had absolutely no interest in watching the novices down on the courtyard. He found no interest either within the large eagle which was circling over Masyaf and of which Malik already knew that Altaїr was feeding him in secret. Well, that would be in the past from now on, because how on earth was Altaїr supposed to climb all those ladders inside the tower now anyway? Altaїr was probably the only one insane enough getting close enough to a bird of prey like this to feed it even in the face of the danger of being attacked. No, Malik did not care for these things; he really just stood by the window to look outside so he did not need to face the room.

"Master Al-Sayf won't you sit down a little? You are standing there for hours now. If you go on like this and keep staring holes into the sky it will be raining soon." Malik was no scientist and he was no weatherman either, but he really doubted that it worked like this. Well, but since he could not exclude the possibility either that he could anger some god-like creature up there with his staring, he finally turned to face that poor fool who was brave (or stupid) enough to rip him from his thoughts. The boy was one of the grey-hooded novices - one of the fresh ones - and Malik always needed a little time until he remembered his name. Naim? Yes, that was it: Naim. His father died last year on a mission.

Naim was a nervous fourteen-year-old boy with thick, black curls like a mob on his head and really heavily tanned skin which was even darker than Malik's. His eyes were the color of hazelnuts just like those of his numerous older brothers which were all members of the brotherhood. He was here for hours too, not as long as Malik was standing by the window, but nearly. The boy was dutiful and he had helped the physician eagerly and with great interest while said doctor had still been here.

"I don’t trust those stools" Malik replied and grabbed his left shoulder - that was his way of crossing his arms. "I mean there must be a reason our mentor has no proper bed, right?"

"You mean he built those stools himself?" Naim replied with huge eyes. Malik almost expected some hymn on Altaїr's work because Naim was one of those few who worshiped the ground Altaїr was walking on. Of course, an assassin was no carpenter and considering that those few objects weren't crafted that badly, he must give him that, but still critic won't hurt the mentor so he would not lose the ground under his feet again.

"They look like they have been built by a three-year-old, so yes, I think he built them himself" Malik replied when he pulled one of the chairs to him and slowly sat down on it.

"You know the master well, don’t you?" Naim asked and under different circumstances, Malik would have laughed. They knew each other well, yes, that alone could be deduced when noticing how it was Malik staying on guard for Altaїr. And a small part of him asked him why he was here in the first place. He should be miles away. He should be long back in Jerusalem in his office, back in the silence of his own four walls - if anyone wanted to really call it that. He already missed the cool air inside his bureau, the rippling of the fountain of the small yard, the sweet smell of tea and spices coming from the streets, the dusty parchments lying around on the shelves, the smell of ink and the scratching sound of the quill on the parchment and the yelling of the merchants nearby. Perhaps he even missed the sound of some clumsy novice falling through the opening in the roof of the yard or the sight of a friend sleeping on the pillows in the shadows.

"We grew up together; we learned together the art of being an assassin. We know each other longer than you are even a part of this world, Novice." He then mumbled and suddenly Naim looked as if this whole situation made him extremely uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his neck and his eyes wandered to the corner of the room where the _bed_ of the mentor was located.

"What now?" He asked quietly and lowered his voice a little and perhaps more than necessary under these circumstances, but Malik still tried to avoid following the boy's gaze towards their mentor. He thought back to the moment when he saw Altaїr fall from the tower. It certainly was not the first time in the life of the assassin that he had seen him fall, god no. During their time as novices, Altaїr fell more times than he bothered to count and they both encountered more than once how a broken bone felt, but this time it was different, this time, it had not been some harmless drop, although the real damage still was not clear to them. Perhaps it was his inner pessimist ruling over his entire body since the loss of his arm and brother, who decided to assume the worst possible outcome.

"What do you mean?" Malik asked, although he already knew what Naim meant. Perhaps he really just tried to play for time; perhaps he just wanted to get around saying the truth himself.

"Well, I just wanted to say … How do you think things are continuing from now on with the brotherhood, Master Al-Sayf?"

Malik only furrowed his brows as tightly as humanly possible and set up a full frown - a look which made the novices run for their lives normally, when they encountered him inside his office, his territory, but Naim did not even flinch as much. "It will continue like it did before."

"But don’t you think-"

"There is no reason why the brotherhood should be in any danger just because of this little accident." His voice was loud enough to be understood as a scolding, but he did not yell - there was no need for doing that.

"Do you think he will walk again?" Now Naim lowered his gaze down to the ground and Malik just wished he could do the same thing to escape answering this question, but his position demanded him to keep a cool head. But then again what was his position now anyway? He was only the Dai of Jerusalem. What was he worth for the brotherhood now?

"An eagle never forgets how to fly, Naim. You should not doubt our mentor, you should never underestimate him. Now go, it's time for dinner soon. You have done enough for today and I thank you for your support."

Naim paused for a moment and kept standing where he was, but then he nodded and bowed his head a little. Malik might be only the Dai of Jerusalem, but he still stood above that youngster in the hierarchic structure of the brotherhood. And oh well, perhaps a few of them still saw the _King of Swords_ when looking at him. Only then Naim disappeared through the narrow door into the hallway and left Malik alone with his thought inside the Mentor's chambers.

As soon as Naim closed the door behind him and gave Malik over to the silence inside the chambers, he instantly wished the boy would not have left him. Sure, he could've gone back to the window, but he could not avoid the truth forever. And the truth confronted him with its most ugly face, as soon as Malik finally turned his head to look at Altaїr's bed.

In his head, Altaїr had been a nomad for the majority of his adult life, just like most of the others suspected. He knew that Altaїr needed to share a room with Abbas for a few years, that was until Abbas tried to murder him for the first time (not that the guy had tried it again since, but you never knew) and after this incident Altaїr moved in with the other novices into the dormitory, just like Kadar and Malik too after their father's untimely demise. Altaїr really only rarely talked or revealed anything about himself during this time and he never really got along with the other novices all too well. Altaїr was the embodiment of a hermit and for him, it seemed like finally being released from a cage when his training ended. After this, he nearly lived only on horseback or in some dirty little caves somewhere in the desert between missions and errands. And now he was here - so that was the home Altaїr had chosen. A nest inside the highest tower of the fortress fit for the famous eagle of Masyaf.

But even though he imagined Altaїr's life in the past like that of a nomad, he knew for sure that he probably lived in his late father's little house down in the village, after all, his furniture had not just appeared out of nowhere.

The chambers he now lived in were not big and of course the others pondered about why he had not chosen Al Mualim's chambers which easily were twice as big as this room, but Altaїr probably did not need much space and Malik guessed that he did not want to occupy the rooms of a man he called father and then murdered. He would never say it out loud, but Malik imagined that he knew Altaїr well enough to know that Altaїr really was consumed by guilt.

The interior of the room was meager. Only a few half-heartedly built shelves occupying the walls stuffed with books and parchments and a few maps spread out on the several small tables standing around or pinned with blunt little knives to the walls. Altaїr's desk was way smaller than the big one a few stories down in the mentor's office, but still, he favored this one in here. Other than this he only possessed three chairs among them the one Malik now sat on and an old carpet which seemed to be at least twenty years old and judging by the design originally brought from Acre. Malik could not imagine Altaїr riding on his horse carrying this monstrosity back home just to make his home a little more comfortable. But then again he liked it comfortable because there was one item other than all those books and parchments he possessed in large numbers: pillows. Unlike anything he ever thought about the mentor's personality Altaїr loved to lie where it was soft like a cloud and warm – that Malik learned about the guy whenever Altaїr crashed at his office to sleep. There had been not a single pillow that did not fall victim to the assassin's acquisitiveness. Even now his bed only was formed out of a very thin mattress filled with hay and a whole mountain of pillows he was buried in.

The mentor looked pale and astonishingly small and fragile how he was now lying in this ocean of colorful and bright pillows. Of course, even under normal circumstances, Altaїr was no giant, at the most, he met the average of a Syrian male, but now he looked tiny in comparison to the big-mouthy guy Malik knew. Perhaps it was only because he was missing his oh so beloved hood that he appeared so weak and sick and small. The hood was always the first thing Malik thought about when the name was called. Never the scar or the eyes, always this ridiculous white hood. He had never really taken it off as long as he remembered, not even in his sleep and almost Malik managed to forget what color his hair really was. His hair was of a light brown, light like sand and depending on how the sun was shining down on him it would shimmer golden and then red again, but the longer he would let it grow out (because he simply did not care to cut it sometimes) the darker it seemed to become.

Now studying the man that was already called a living legend among the novices and the other assassins Malik decided that there really was nothing special about Altaїr's appearance. He was so absolutely ordinary that he almost stood out because of this from the masses. But of course, his rather average looks came in favorable when being an assassin. Like that, it was much easier to become a part of the masses.

Hours ago (or was it days?) Rauf had taken care that the mentor would be brought into his chambers after his fall from the tower. It had been a horrible ascent for the helpers and Rauf, but as soon as they managed to lay the master down on his own bed and free him carefully from his white robes (he still refused to take on the Mentor's black) the physician had arrived to look at his wounds. Now after hours Altaїr's whole body was covered in large black and blue marks and ugly bruises, angry red welts, and bloody scrapes. A long cut had torn open his left eyebrow but other than this his face was almost unharmed. Therefore his right wrist was broken – not that there would be any difference in his handwriting because of him being now forced to use his left hand to write. His handwriting was awful anyway – and so was his left foot. Those broken bones would heal at some point in the future. The bruises and marks would vanish, even the cut on his eyebrow would only leave a scar behind but that was about it. The worst part of his injuries was his broken back, how the physician had told them.

When the doctor told them about Altaїr's back he instantly thought back to the last man Malik had known to have a broken back due to one of the many tortures he had endured. The poor guy had been crippled for the rest of his life after he was freed from the prison and the horrors within and Malik had often seen him on his trips to Acre when the man had been begging near one of the many Christian churches within the city's walls. He had not been able to use his legs anymore, not even to control his bladder or his intestine. Wherever the poor man had crouched on the ground he made a mess beneath his body like a caged animal. He had smelled of urine and shit, had been plagued by disease and infection because nobody had wanted to help him and nobody had been able to help him anyway. Now he was probably dead. If he did not starve to death his diseases probably killed him – or some merciful mercenary in the dead of the night.

Such a life … Well, no, actually _life_ was not the right word for something like that. He did not want - and was not able - to imagine Altaїr living like that. And yet the physician had not left him with any space to hope much. For now, they could not know the extent of his injuries exactly but the chances of full healing were not good at all and still, there was this little voice inside his head refusing to believe that Altaїr could be paralyzed. The Eagle of Masyaf who always flew higher than everyone else always found a way. They surely were not friends. Yes, he forgave him for the things that had happened. He had seen how Altaїr had grown on his mistakes, how he became a different person, a different Altaїr and still they were not friends. They were not enemies either, nor rivals. Still, he gave it to Altaїr that he already saw him winning against awful diseases while other people succumbed to them.

Yet, Malik remembered the epidemic which had been raging in the streets and homes of Masyaf back when they were still children. The plague had killed dozens of people, old and young, strong and weak likewise. It took away children and adults, brothers and sisters, assassins as well as peasants. Back then Malik could only watch how the assassins constantly dug fresh graves on the hills for their fallen brothers, for their families and for the ones still battling with the plague. Altaїr had tossed and turned in his bed struck with fever for days - weeks! - and screamed from the pain on the top of his lungs until he could not scream anymore because his vocal cords gave in. He remembered how vividly the boy fantasized - so much in fact that the other children had been too afraid to stay with him in the same room. It had taken him months to recover, but he survived an illness that killed stronger men in just a second.

He would survive this as well. His back would heal and he would complain for a few months that he could not climb or run or jump as he was used to and that he only had the annoying paperwork of the mentor left to occupy himself with, but then - in not even a year from now - he would again run across Jerusalem's rooftops instead of being here to occupy himself with the annoying paperwork how he was supposed to.

And yet the sight of him now was bewildering to Malik.

It was not as much his injuries. The worst part of this situation was the things that would be mumbled in secretive from now on. Altaїr's injuries were all Abbas and his pals could have hoped for. Never had it been easier to kick Altaїr off his throne. With Altaїr's fall not only the mentor was looking on a stony path lying ahead but the brotherhood itself. And in that very moment, Malik did not know for the first time if the best way for the brotherhood really was the one Altaїr was leading or if it was another's turn. There needed to be a reason for all this and why the brotherhood flourished and functioned for a hundred years but now slowly began crumbling at the seams. He would not go as far as to blame Altaїr for all this, but he too was not one of those who would clear Altaїr from any wrong doing in this as well. But the crack had been made long ago and Malik knew this with certainty even though he had been only a child himself back then. The crack inside the brotherhood had been made on the day when Umar Ibn-La'Ahad had been executed in front of the fortresses' gates just because another brother had snitched on him and gave out his name under the torture of the Saracens.

Now when he thought back to the events of this day they seemed somewhat unreal to him, just like they were only the result of a delirium of his. He himself remembered the beginning of the siege way too vividly for his own good it seemed and his father who stormed into their little home down in the village. After their mother's death Kadar, Malik and their father Faheem were all alone and thus the boys often stayed within the walls of the fortress whenever their father had been out on a journey – a journey his children never knew if he would come home from or if it would find a good end. Back then Malik had been way too young to understand the philosophy of the Levantine way, but he did understand – better than his baby brother ever could – that he might have seen his father for the last time whenever he left for his journeys. There were many dangers waiting on the path between Masyaf and the cities the assassins were sent to and only a few of these dangers was the heat of the vast deserts, the thirst, and the highwaymen. And yet he did understand that his father had been ready to give his life for the secrets and the protection of the brotherhood.

But on this fateful day he had stormed into his home, grabbed his children (he had taken Malik by the hand and Kadar on his back), gathered a few of their most important belongings and then he fled the village to search for shelter inside the fortress just like so many other assassins and their families. Kadar did not understand why the villagers would not come with them, but Malik did understand that there was simply not enough room for all of them inside the fortress and not nearly enough supplies for the time the siege would continue. Days they spent up there, Kadar and he had stayed with the other children of the assassins inside the novices' quarters in the east wing of the fortress. Even in bright daylight, the brothers did not dare to step outside the thick walls and the safety those walls promised, yet he remembered the day Umar Ibn-La'Ahad died clearly. He still remembered how the voice of the Saracen leader echoed from the cliffs and the high walls and he still remembered his threat to kill Ahmad Sofian instead of Umar and to obtain the siege on the fortress until the assassins would not have another choice than to give up their resistance. Perhaps it really was the right way Umar had chosen. After all, it had been his fault which led to this situation, only a second of carelessness and of the same levity he passed on down to his son – and yet for Malik, it seemed like injustice back then.

The brotherhood never managed to forget Umar's death and after this Ahmad Sofian had been only a traitor and an outlaw among the assassins only because he broke one of the three tenants of the assassins' creed. It would have been his duty to die and take Umar's name with him to the grave instead of giving it to the Saracens and inevitably making a boy an orphan with that. On that very day, the brotherhood was split into two groups

Malik remembered how upset his own father had been about his friend's death. Umar had been a much-welcomed guest in their home as long as Malik could remember. He still remembered the tricks Umar had shown him and his booming laughter. He had been a funny guy, a little foolish, a little hot-headed, a little big-mouthed, and a little too energetic – but Altaїr Malik only had seen rarely during that time. Altaїr had been one of those children who always ran around in the village and somewhere they should not be. Altaїr had always been free like a bird and Umar only rarely worried about his boy. Perhaps Altaїr had been too independent for his own good – that was what his father Faheem always told Umar. And Malik often heard Umar scolding his son whenever Altaїr came home dirty from head to the toes with mud and grass, but still, the house of the Ibn-La'Ahads had been a loving one, even though Altaїr had been alone often.

Of course, no one really could blame Altaїr for those events back then, but perhaps for the things which would follow. Altaїr never was a person who liked to follow orders, not his father's orders nor Al Mualim's. Perhaps the old man should have known Altaїr would defy his orders and flat out tell Abbas about his father's death and perhaps this was what Altaїr should be blamed for.

But now it was their duty to preserve the brotherhood from breaking apart because otherwise a war brother against brother would soon follow and with that, there could not be a winner. No matter who would stand up straight afterward, the brotherhood would be dead afterward. Well, perhaps the way of the world wanted it like that. Perhaps they played their cards way too long for their own good, perhaps they exhausted their existence way too long.

Hours passed while Malik was guarding the mentor and during those hours he had time enough to question his choice of activity. When the dinner was over Rauf brought something to eat for him - only a slice of bread and some of the soup, but it was better than nothing and the assassins were always used to a stern diet. When the night finally arrived at Masyaf and laid its black wings over the fortress and the village beneath it did not take long until the first drops of heavy rain too fell from the darkened sky and then, after Malik closed the wooden window shutters against the cold wind and the rain he made himself comfortable on one of the uncomfortable chairs, even though there really was not much hope for sleep. He had wished the medico would visit once more before the night fell, but he had been left alone with Altaїr and to be quite frank there really was not a reason for the physician to come here again. All they could do was to wait. Wait and hope. Malik never was good in those two particular things.

At some point, he had grown restless and grabbed one of the many, many dusty books from one of the crammed up shelves, albeit he did not really fancy reading right now and - was it just his imagination or did the pages of that particular book really smelled like fire and smoke? Well, no, he was not imagining the smell at all. The back of the book cover was burned and Malik remembered the letters he got from Damascus some time ago from the bureau leader of the big city. Jubair al Hakim had thought to see the evil within the books of the scholars and decided to declare to burn them all only to free the people (the few that could read) from the deed of the devil. There really was many things one could say about Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad: He was a prick, he was a big mouthed idiot, he was so full of himself that it really was no wonder he could not manage to swim because the weight of his own ego was constantly dragging him down - but enemies of wisdom and knowledge were his enemies as well. He always took it very personal whenever someone would mistreat a book or a parchment and yet he was the one running around and carelessly knocking over ink pots so the ink could spill over an entire stack of parchments.

Finally Malik started to read only with the light of one of Altaїr's large beeswax candles and it did not take long until his eyelids suddenly felt heavy and fell shut and he was not able to do anything about this, even though he already dreaded his dreams after a day like this, after all those phantoms inside his head. But before he really could fall asleep the events of this noon flashed once more in his strained mind. He once again could see the fall, once again heard the scream and once again saw the shadowy figure standing in the tower. Until now he hadn't had the time to really think about it, maybe he thought it to be just a hallucination of his tired eyes, but now, the more he pondered about it, the surer he felt that it hadn't been just a figment of his imagination.

Altaїr never fell or lost his balance while performing a leap of faith. His body was a machine and the movement strictly dictated. And yet Malik hadn't seen anyone leaving the tower and no one else seemed to have noticed what Malik had seen. No one except for Altaїr himself, but he was still subjected to sleep.

But an accident? Hardly.

Of course, there was a name popping up in his head: Abbas. Who else would shove Altaїr down the tower? But would Abbas really go that far and act so risky? Sure, he must've expected to see Altaїr dead after a fall like this, but he survived and now he would be able to call out his attacker. Other than this, was Abbas really dumb enough to attack Altaїr even with the prospect in mind that Altaїr could try to defend himself? After all, it was not much of a secret, that Abbas was not exactly the most talented among the assassins.

Of course, it would be possible that he sent one of his pals to do the deed because Abbas did have those little helpers – that was nothing to deny. Even a slime ball like he did have something like supporters or _friends_ within the brotherhood.

Just one last time Malik pried his eyes open to flash a last long look at the door of the room, but the wooden structure was unmovable and rested solidly in its frame. He thought about locking the room with the latch Altaїr had added to his door after he moved in, but then again what if the medic decided to visit again tonight and would stand in front of a locked door? What in the case of an emergency? And what right did he have to lock the mentor's door anyway?

He was only the Dai of Jerusalem – no more, no less and yet he thought about the hours he spent with Altaїr when they were younger (oh so much younger) and about giggling and cackling sounding from a haystack. But then finally Malik was grabbed by sleep and pulled down into the darkness of his nightmarish visions of long lost days.

 

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His body was aflame and when he finally managed to open his eyes he could only see the gray stone of the fortress he knew so well hovering over his head as if it wanted to crush him any minute now. But there weren't stones falling down on his body to bury him and kill him, no weight squashing him. Only silence. Silence and pain and a single confused voice inside his head (or so he believed at least) repeating the same question over and over again.

"Where's Kadar?" he mumbled but his voice was only a thin croaking sound and held no resemblance to the voice he knew so well. He felt like a newborn, like an infant that tried to use his voice for the very first time while its voice still refused the service. His lips felt dry and brittle and so felt his skin. Perhaps a part of him had really hoped his brother would answer him, but the answer never came. He waited to no avail; instead, the night took him again under its wings.

"Where's Kadar?" He asked again when he opened his eyes the next time and he did not even know if seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks or even months had passed since he closed them the last time. The burning was still there and so was the stone ceiling hovering above his head like the sword of Damocles. New sensations were added to the cocktail he already felt: the feeling of a soft mattress under his hurting and seemingly naked back, but he could not find the strength inside him to move his head.

"He's dead. Don’t you remember, Malik?" He recognized the voice, but he could not put his finger on it. All the voice was giving him was anger and … there was no word for the things he felt while listening to this voice. He remembered Kadar's death. He remembered holding his brother in his arms only minutes ago. He remembered and yet it could not be the truth, right? It was only a nightmare that was all.

"We needed to cut off your arm. The wound was too deep – it was infected. You would’ve died if we would not have done it." Again this voice. He wanted to turn his head to see who was talking to him, but he could not find the strength and then again – then again he did not really want to know. He did not want to see what was left of his arm. He remembered the wound and the fever when he came back to Masyaf, riding on a horse although he only barely made it out of Solomon's temple alive, clutching the artifact underneath his robes, leaving his baby brother behind in the rubble and always drifting in and out of consciousness.

"You should've let me die."

 

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Malik was awoken by the sound of the loud and growling thunder outside. The storm had reached Masyaf and held the fortress and the village in its tight and demanding claws. It took him a while until his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness around and for just one short single moment he was sure Kadar would crawl into his bed any second now because he was afraid of the thunderstorm raging outside the window. But then his hurting spine reminded him of the truth and he remembered that he was not lying in his bed inside the novices sleeping quarters or even in the small house down in the village their father left behind when he died. There was no Kadar crawling into his bed and clinging to his big brother. There was no small little voice calling out his name. He still sat on one of Altaїr's back ruining uncomfortable chairs and his head was throbbing immensely with pain.

The wooden window shutters were rattling in the wind and only then Malik finally understood that it was not as much the thunder that woke him up but the rattling sound of the wood against stone, so he rose from the chair, albeit it not as graceful as he wished to tend to the problem now at hand. With the first steps he took towards the window inside Altaїr's chambers there was a small groan rumbling over his dry lips and he only wasted one little moment to stretch his aching body in hopes of loosening his tight muscles only a little or to sort his bones - to no avail. Only then he opened the window shutters one more time to let the wind into the room and with it a little bit of cool air, so he could watch the show outside for a while.

Malik loved it to simply stand or sit somewhere and watch the rain or the thunder while others would cower in fear somewhere in the dark. But for him, it had something soothing, especially after a dream like this, even though said dream was only a dull, throbbing memory inside his head now. A fever dream of a fever dream.

Behind him, the various maps and parchments pinned to the stone walls were cracking angrily in the wind, but it did not bother him. He tried to think about the stormy nights he already experienced in Jerusalem and how he then sat in the small courtyard on the many pillows and stared up at the darkened sky through the wooden gate in the ceiling before he needed to really close it so the rain would not flood his bureau. And he tried to remember the few (oh so very few) nights he spent in the fortress during such nights and the heat of a body next to his, often slowly moving against his naked skin and soft but calloused fingers drawing small patterns over his sun-kissed skin in secretiveness.

Malik tried to absorb the sight of the nightly fortress into his mind, but then he turned around and simply stood there for a moment, enjoying the cool fingers on the back of his neck and his warm flesh. It was silent in the room with the exception of the rustling parchments, but when the next bolt of lightning illuminated the chamber Malik's gaze fell upon the mentor's bed and upon the wide open amber eyes. In this short moment when the bright light fell on Altaїr's open eyes they reminded Malik in a horrifying way on the _Apple of Eden_ , that damned artifact which caused them so much dread already - This very artifact which stole his brother and his arm and corrupted their mentor and was now mirrored in Altaїr's wide open eyes.

For a moment Malik stood where he was, not daring to move if only an inch before he heard the first shuttering breath the mentor took. He expected an outrage or at least something like a whimper of pain, but the mentor was used to being injured, but he - No. Malik really would like to say Altaїr only complained rarely about his injuries, but this was not the truth. Altaїr always complained. He always moaned. He always whined. Whenever he barged into his bureau, bloody and miserable he would always tell his saga with a whimper or a moan or a curse on his lips. But he never complained or whined when things got serious. And suddenly Altaїr's silence was even more dreading than hearing him scream in pain. He wished to hear him scream. He wished to hear his complaints. Instead, Altaїr's face only was a grimace of pain and silence and Malik had no other choice than stepping closer to the bed.

When he crouched down on the stone floor he heard the rasping breath better than before, saw the clenched fists and saw the horror in Altaїr's eyes. Before he could say something or do something, Altaїr shot up on his camp and sat up straight even though he looked like his spine was protesting and Malik knew it was. But still, Altaїr was completely silent when he ripped the blanket from his legs with his not injured hand. He did not seem relieved to see his naked legs resting on the mattress.


	3. Chapter 3

"Kadar, stop! We have no right to be here!" Malik Al-Sayf, the big brother of Kadar Al-Sayf, hissed while he followed the seven-year-old boy through the seemingly endless, crooked corridors of the fortress that towered over the village of Masyaf. In fact it would be his responsibility - as Kadar's big brother and oldest son of the Al-Sayf family - to drag the boy back to his bed, instead, he followed his baby brother very much like a lemming on his quest through the darkened building. Maybe this was simply because a little part of him really was just as curious as his brother was. Criminy! If his father would get wind of this he really would get a good scolding - Kadar would probably get away again, after all, _he_ was the big brother and it was _his_ job to get Kadar in line whenever their father was not around to parent his youngest child.

His father was a busy man, especially after a day like this one. At least he was not on some kind of journey to Acre or Damascus or Jerusalem again. At least he was now here within the confines of Masyaf and the fortress's thick stone walls. At least Malik knew he was here, only a few stories up in the mentor's office – that, the novices, those gray hooded young men, told him and looked really awestruck on the same instant. He did not really know what this _Mentor_ -thing was all about. His father sometimes called the _Mentor_ Al Mualim, the wise man of the mountain, but for Malik and Kadar he simply was Rashid.

Certainly, Rashid also would not be all too happy to see the Al-Sayf brothers running around through the corridors so late at night. They should lie in their beds and since they refused to go back home, down in the village now that the siege was ended, they should at least sleep in the novices' quarters like they did since the siege by the Saracens started.

"Kadar!" Malik tried again and lowered his shouting to an angry whisper, but his brother refused to listen to him and rounded the next corner.

Malik did not know the interior of the fortress well, that he could admit without feeling any shame, but yet he knew that they had no right to be in that part of the building. Here the station of the invalids began, where the assassins cared for their sick and wounded brothers. With horror he watched how his overly curious baby brother opened one of the many doors, which handle he could hardly reach (Kadar was extremely short for a boy of seven years and sometimes Malik was quite certain all the hot bathing the little one did was not really good for his growing), right when he shot around the corner too.

Kadar had already vanished inside the dark chamber behind the door he had opened before Malik could have even tried to hold him back and so the eleven-year-old boy could not do much else than following his baby brother - _again_. Oh, his father was going to get pissed - and rightfully so.

At the door Malik stopped for a second and cast one last long glance over his shoulder to study the dark corridor behind him: he could see nobody. Not yet at least. Assassins were masters of defilade and the novices quasi everywhere, so if only one of them would’ve seen them they would not get out of this situation without their father being informed. _By Allah, Kadar, where do you rope me into again?_ , the older of the Al-Sayf brothers pondered before he managed to close the heavy wooden door silently behind him and dove into the dark embrace of the sickroom.

It was almost completely quiet inside the chamber. Only the whispering of the wind through the cracks in the stone walls was to be heard and somewhere in the darkness a quiet sobbing and a small hiccupping sound which brought the room to live. It was not a very pleasant soundscape - not for Malik at least, who already knew better than his little brother. He already knew _who_ was lying in the bed inside this very room and who it was the crying belonged to and of course he also knew already why the boy inside this very room was crying, to begin with.

Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad was a familiar name for Malik Al-Sayf, even though the boy named Altaїr was one of those boys Malik had only rarely seen until now. His father, on the other hand, was more familiar to Malik. Umar Ibn-La'Ahad was dead now - Beheaded in front of the fortresses gates like a rabid dog. Altaїr was an orphan now, even though the brotherhood would raise him from now on. Perhaps this was the reason why Malik felt this big lump in his throat. He always marveled Altaїr a little. He never let himself got hold back by no one and he always flew a little bit higher than all the others. This would stop from now on.

 

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"Altaїr." Malik's voice filled the room without him needing to raise it more than usually. "What exactly are you doing there?" He only met deaf ears. That was nothing new really – not when he was talking to Altaїr at least. The face of the mentor was only a horrible distorted grimace caught somewhere between rage and frustration and pain, his ridiculously white teeth were bared like some wild animal and his forehead covered in deep worry lines, while his nostrils flared like the ones of raging bull. He still wore only the thin white nightshirt he hated so much instead of his oh so beloved white robes. Underneath he was naked and since the fabric was not traditionally very thick Malik could almost see right through it and watch how Altaїr's back muscles were working.

"Can't you see that?" He growled even though it sounded more like an exhausted wheeze. All Malik got to see now was a grown man who tried to wriggle over the stone floor with the help of his elbows and hands like a baby which tried to crawl for the very first time.

Malik only left the room for ten minutes to get the breakfast for Altaїr from Rauf downstairs, but when he got back Altaїr already had managed to roll out of his bed and hit the stone floor. His chin was bleeding a little and so it seemed very likely that this short fall from the mattress onto the floor had sufficed that the mentor scraped open his chin. Well there really was only one man in the world who could manage to do something like that and for a short moment Malik nearly felt something like pity for Altaїr – but then he glanced down at the stump that was left of his arm and this trace of pity vanished as fast as it appeared.

"All I can see is a grown man making himself a running gag crawling like a baby over the floor. You need to stay in bed, that’s what the doctor said. Do you actually ever listen to someone in your life? What are you trying to achieve with that anyway?" Oh, it certainly was not the first time for Malik feeling as if he was talking with a child while talking to Altaїr.

"I need to take a piss." Altaїr growled and he already squinted his eyes shut, so they were nothing but small slits, but it was different than usually. That was none of their usual little games like those they played in his bureau back in Jerusalem. This now was serious and Malik knew by heart he was walking on very thin ice right now – not that he would care anyway. The _accident_ dated back more than a week now and Altaїr's injuries only healed very slowly – much to the mentor's anger and mainly because he refused to stay in his bed and use the fucking piss pot. He always said he would feel a personal disliking towards the thing and whenever someone would make the mistake and ask what he meant by that, said poor person would get to hear that the very personality of the pisspot would disgust Altaїr and that – should the brotherhood keep deteriorating like that – the thing would probably even become a member of the brotherhood in the future. Those were moments in which Malik could not really decide if he should question Altaїr's mind or if it was possible that those were things the _Apple_ showed him.

"Couldn't you just wait until I'm back to help you?" Malik knew the answer already and also he could see it in Altaїr's amber eyes.

"I don’t need help!" The assassin hissed while he focused on dragging himself through the room on his good arm and towards the door where Malik still stood with the tray for Altaїr's breakfast in his hand. "Oh, of course, you certainly don not need any help at all. My apologies for assuming something like that. How in the heavens could I think such absurdity?" If they were able to, Altaїr's eyes would throw bolts of lightning at him, but since they were not able to Malik was spared the mentor's godly rage. Slowly Malik stepped farther into the chamber and put the tray aside on the small table right next to Altaїr. There was still a little bit of blood dripping from his chin from the scratch he'd gotten himself there. "Now come on you useless chunk, I'll help you getting on that damned pisspot." Malik moaned and grabbed with his one hand for Altaїr's left arm, but the assassin pulled himself free from his grip and instead grabbed the bowl of hummus Malik got him and threw it in the direction of the door. The bowl flew right through the still open door and bounced off the wall of the staircase a few feet away.

"I don’t need your help you fucking useless cripple!" The mentor yelled abruptly and Malik actually flinched a bit being confronted with Altaїr's sudden explosion, even though it was not like he feared him or that his words could actually hurt him – no, he flinched because he really did understand Altaїr's rage.

And yet he grabbed once again for Altaїr's left arm, even though he clenched his teeth until his jaw started to hurt. And again Altaїr pulled himself free; tough his eyes remained focused on the ground. "Piss off." His voice sounded strained and this time Malik really did how it was demanded from him. Without further ado and without saying one more word he left the mentor behind and closed the door after himself. But Malik did not really leave him; instead, he sat down on the utmost step of the stone staircase and waited.

 

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It stunk. It was warm and wet and cold in his bed and it stunk. Suddenly Altaїr felt that he really had a quite good understand of how it had been when he had been an infant. His father always liked to taunt him a little while telling him oh how often he needed to change his diapers per day. Almost he wished his father back to his side now and he pondered on how long it would take until the novices decided to swaddle him like an infant once more. Perhaps it really would be best if they did.

Malik had not come back to him since he shooed him away hours ago, but Altaїr knew him all too well to know he was near and probably watched over him like a big old and always judging owl. No matter what Malik thought or said about him, Altaїr knew that he only had two friends who would watch over him in this place, now that he was weak and Malik was one of those two.

Altaїr knew he could not do much other than simply wait until he would get help or to call out for Malik but until now every fiber of his soul being refused to call out for help in any way whatsoever. He could not really crawl. Not as long as his right hand was broken at least. And as long as his legs would refuse to follow his orders he was dependent on Malik and Rauf and the novices. And all that only because of a fall. Ridiculous.

A small voice somewhere inside his head told him for days now that it had been his arrogance which led to his downfall in the first place and probably that was the truth. He could not remember the fall itself now or even why he had climbed up this tower. An eagle was screeching somewhere in the distance. Yes, probably he had wanted to visit his feathery friend up in the tower, the only one who could understand how it was to live as a predator among chickens. Many years ago Altaїr nursed his wing after the bird had injured it. Perhaps now the bird would repay the favor.

But now there was no one with him and his legs were only useless lumps which refused to follow his orders at any costs and he was lying in his own piss only because while he was too proud to let himself get helped by anyone.

When he opened his eyes the next time he heard the small rustling sound of feathers nearby. Altaїr had no clue how long he had been sleeping at all – if he really had slept at all. The hope that all of this was just an awful nightmare, a hellish vision was still cemented in his head and yet his eyes followed the sound and found the eagle sitting on his windowsill.

"It's sitting there for hours now. A loyal pet you have there." Malik sat on one of the many pillows on the floor, his eyes digging into one of the burned books which Altaїr saved from Jubair al Hakim back in Damascus. Like always he was dressed in his white robes and that midnight blue cloak which kept reminding Altaїr on what he had done just as well as the pinned up sleeve he hated so much to see.

"It isn't my pet. It doesn't belong to no one and it does not follow no one's orders. And you’ve stolen my pillow." Even in his own ears, his voice sounded ridiculously hoarse and small and only hardly match up with the assassins' Mentor he had known so well.

"You’ve got more than enough pillows over there, Novice. Should your enemies ever get wind of your little obsession they would have the weapon to murder you right at hand to just end you in your sleep. Quite careless for the leader of the assassins' brotherhood if you would ask me." Malik did not turn around and he did not even turn his head or glanced over his shoulder towards him while he was speaking. The eagle on the other hand slowly dipped his head ever so slightly in Altaїr's direction.

Altaїr had often wondered in the past what the bird was possibly thinking and more than once he wished they simply could swap places. He wondered if the animal remembered the broken wing which almost had cost it its life so many years ago. Was it here now because it wanted to give comfort to the boy who helped it back then? At least for a second, this thought brought a small smile to his haggard face and he could not help but think: _Yes, now you need to be my wings, beautiful._

"I don’t have any enemies. At least not here in Masyaf." The young mentor ( _the youngest to ever hold that title)_ replied. But Malik had only a small snort for him as a reply.

"Of course not. It was an accident when you fell down the tower."

Malik did not say anything about the urine stench which certainly must burn into his nostrils and Altaїr had no idea what to do about this. It was not like the young men who decided to join the brotherhood would learn how to maintain a household or even how to clean a soiled mattress eventually during their period of training inside the fortress. On the other hand, perhaps he really should think about including those topics into their training. Certainly, there were a few women down in the village that would be more than willing to teach some stupid men the things they needed to do for their family's day in, day out.

"What are you trying to say?" Oh, he already knew what Malik was trying to say and it was not like he himself had not already thought about it. But … perhaps he did not really want to really consider this possibility.

"I'm just saying that a few of our brothers don’t believe what you said about Rashid's death. They question the power this _Apple_ supposedly has and that even against the fact that they have all seen it with their own eyes. And Abbas-"

"Abbas is my brother. He made a mistake, yes, and he realized his mistake." Yes, _you shall be brothers from now on_ , the old man had said once, oh so many years ago. _You shall share a chamber, you shall sleep together as brothers, you shall eat together as brothers and you shall learn together as brothers._

His brother Abbas had betrayed him on that faithful day when Altaїr decided to burn their late mentor's corpse for the greater good and yet Altaїr found the mercy in his heart to forgive him once again, just like Malik forgave him. Even though it had not been the first time Abbas betrayed him.

"You are naïve when you really believe what you are saying." Malik replied and Altaїr could already tell only by looking at the back of Malik's head how he furrowed his brows. He always loved this expression of his face which would always scare the less brave novices away from his bureau and perhaps it really was this look why he liked to visit Jerusalem in the past months - and yet those lovely warm summer nights were long dead and gone.

"He's not the same person anymore. I know a man who once forgave some village idiot for way more horrible sins than Abbas committed in the past." Again the Dai snorted.

"Must've been some stupid, useless cripple." He murmured. There were many things one could attest Altaїr concerning his character: he was arrogant and self-possessed for sure, but he at least knew when it was appropriate to feel ashamed for doing or saying something horrible and hurtful to someone or at least when it was about time to at least have a bad conscience and yet he could not find the right words. Perhaps he already tested Malik's will to forgive him way too often than he would now dare and try again.

The moment to apologize flew by unused and Altaїr could only stare at the back of Malik's head as if that would do anything.

"You need a bath." Malik then said after a small while, still he refused to turn around to face him. Was he mad or was he disappointed because Altaїr did not apologize for his words from earlier? If he was he did not show it at least and that really would be unusual for the Dai. Normally Malik was no one to hide his anger – especially not if Altaїr was the reason for his anger. So for Altaїr, there was only one explanation for Malik's behavior towards him despite his anger and disappointment.

"You'll see, soon I will run through the corridors again or disturb you in your bureau and destroy your maps and letters and then you will curse yourself for caring for me so much."

Malik kept his silence and that Altaїr liked even less than if Malik would decide to yell at him, but then, finally: "Yes, I can visualize that mentally."

There probably was the wish father to the thought and yet Malik of all the people he knew would have any reason to be happy about what had happened to Altaїr. Perhaps this really was the payback for all his sins. Because of him, Kadar died. Because of him, Malik lost his left arm. Even Al Mualim, the man he had called father for the majority of his life and who raised him as if he really was his own son, had died through his blade. And yet, as soon as his legs would follow his orders again, he would make everything right again.

Yes, as soon as he would start to feel his legs again.

 

※※※※※

 

The glow of one single candle lit up the faces of the novices, which decided to gather in the dining hall this late at night and cast shadows and deep lines on their young faces where they shouldn’t be.

When Rauf passed the door of the dining hall he heard a small whispering at first and disposed of it as the wind blowing through the cracks in the stone walls all around, after all this was not really unusual in old buildings like this. But then he spotted the small group half hidden in one of the more concealed corners of the hall. Even that was not as unusual; even if the novices were bound to follow very strict rules and even if they should already lie in their beds if they were not on watch duty. Of course it was his duty as a training instructor to send those children to bed and yet he decided to stop for a minute, hidden in the shadows and thought back to his own time as a novice not so many years ago and how often he had sat with a few others in the glow of a single candle late at night to put their heads together. Only Altaїr always withdrew from that. The others always thought it was his arrogance which held Altaїr back and forced him to refuse their offers to sit and chat with them, but Rauf was certain this was not really the case. Shyness also was not the cause of the now mentor's behavior back then when they were still kids, how Malik often joked (back then when Malik still knew how to joke).

To say it would extremely interest him what the novices did down here at this time in the night and what they needed to talk about was to be categorized as an understatement – even though Rauf told himself that it was not so much his curiosity than his duty as an instructor.

So he followed his duty as an instructor and slid into the shadows on the left-hand side from the portal which led into the dining hall. Rauf knew what the other assassins thought about him and what they were often whispering about him, but he did not care so much about this. Only because he probably was not as good as his brothers in arms, it did not mean that he was incapable as an assassin. Back then it had been his very own decision to take the role as a training instructor when Al Mualim offered it to him and until now he had never regretted this decision. He liked to train the young novices and to see how fast they made progress. He was no scholar like Malik and no masterful warrior like Altaїr, but teaching always held a magical place in his heart and perhaps – perhaps – he even tried to keep close to the _good old times_ like this. Those _good old times_ when he himself had tried to compete with Malik and Altaїr before they simply ran passed him and reached the home stretch.

Regardless of that Rauf mastered his trade and he knew how to move without sound, how one became a part of the shadows all around – something those novices still needed to learn. His movement was silent and the rustling of his robes easily mistaken for the whispering of the wind for the untrained ear. Oh, he would never be able to fool Altaїr nor Malik with that, but it would be enough for the novices. Rauf sneaked up on the little group without causing a single one of them to flinch or even bat an eyelash. There were five of them and each and every single one of them Rauf knew pretty well, but the most familiar he probably was with Naim, the youngest of eight brothers and now an orphan since first his mother and then his father died not long ago. He helped right from the beginning to care for Altaїr after the accident – even though it was quite possible he did so only because he was the first one Malik managed to grab and Naim was probably just too clever to not rebel against him.

Naim's family did not really belong to those who supported Altaїr, mainly because Naim's father belonged to those who wanted to initiate a council of elders to lead the brotherhood after Al Mualim's death – and if not a council of elders than at least a fair election (an election in which only the oldest and wisest of the assassins were allowed to participate in and no children like Altaїr, the murderer of their mentor). How Naim stood to all this Rauf was not able to state, but he knew the opinion of Naim's brothers all too well.

"But Abbas said-" Naim whispered and leaned forward on the wooden table, his eyes conspiratorial glued to the faces of his co-conspirators.

"I know what Abbas said!" Another one hissed. This one had pulled the gray hood of his robes so deeply into his face that Rauf could only guess who it was. Was it Yusuf or his brother Taifun? Judging by his height it must be Yusuf. "But what does it change if he can't walk anymore?"

"There are still enough of those who want to initiate a council of elders now that the old man is dead. Now would be the chance!" The third one – Ismael if Rauf was not mistaken – whispered and his face too was hidden very much by his hood, but Rauf recognized his voice and the little lisp the boy was often taunted for.

Naim only shook his head. "Only because the Master can't walk anymore it doesn’t mean that he can't lead the brotherhood anymore too."

"The Master!" Rami scoffed. He was one of the few who did not wear his hood but therefore he sported the gloomiest look Rauf had ever seen on his youthful face. "Do you even hear what you are saying, Naim? Your father would turn over in his grave! Altaїr is not our Mentor only because he murdered the old one. He just stole the title!"

"Well, that too is not how it went." Serdar sighed and appeared a little bit helplessly when he rubbed over his shaved head and the stubbles which were his hair. "He had been elected under fair circumstances after Al Mualim's death, you know that just as well as I, whether you like it or not. That he is a cripple now, just like this Al-Sayf-guy, doesn't change anything about his claim."

"Fairly elected!" Rami growled and rolled his eyes. "Fairly elected, you've got to be kidding me! Certainly, he used this weird machine on us so the others would vote for him!"

"Altaїr has more than enough followers within the brotherhood to gain the title honestly after all that has happened." Naim murmured.

"Abbas thinks different." Yusuf chipped in and leaned back a little on the wooden bench.

"But only because Abbas hates him. If I wouldn’t have seen him at the base of the tower with the others that day, I would’ve suspected him to have something to do with Altaїr's accident. It would’ve been obvious." Naim made a very serious face, but in the same instant, he looked more as if he was not so sure about what he should think about all those things. He was loyal to his father and to his father's beliefs – and his father most certainly had not believed in Altaїr before he died. Naim felt an obligation to follow his father's example in that matter, Rauf could understand that, but he could also see doubt in Naim and if he really wanted to learn more about what was happening in secrecy he should try to win Naim to his side – and with that to Altaїr's side.

"I don’t get this feud between those two anyway. Altaїr doesn’t seem to hate Abbas or am I wrong? After all, he tried to rescue Abbas after he had stolen this weird machine and lost control over it." Serdar, just like Naim, was one of the very young novices. The both of them started their real training only almost a year ago and before that, they only visited the fortress if their fathers would’ve taken them or whenever they wanted to pick their fathers up. Naim was fifteen now and Serdar a boy of only fourteen years. Children. Of course, they knew nothing.

"Altaїr thinks Abbas is his best friend. I even heard how he once called him his brother." Naim whispered.

"We all call ourselves brothers. That’s the thing when being part of a brotherhood." Yusuf moaned.

"No, I don’t mean it like that. He talked to him as if they really were brothers, but Abbas hates him doubtlessly. Once my brother Hakim said this whole feud is because of something that happened with their fathers, but he did not want to say anything specific."

"That might be because your brothers know nothing about all this." Yusuf then growled.

"Tarek knows Abbas and Altaїr since they started their training!" Naim immediately replied with an angry hiss, after he clearly wanted to defend his brothers' honor. "He knows much more about those things than you, Yusuf."

"That’s not the point here." Rami then stated and raised his hand to stop them from arguing. "It's more important what will now happen to the brotherhood. We can't have a cripple as a mentor."

"And how exactly are you planning to change that? We are only novices, don’t forget that." Ismael sighed.

"The Mentor of the brotherhood should be able to defend the fortress, right? He should be a good example for the other assassins, right? And he should be the embodiment of the creed, right? Altaїr is only a cripple now. He will never walk again, not even to mention climbing or practicing his profession. He is now pretty much worthless for the brotherhood. If you ask me a fast death would be the more merciful solution to this problem. It's contradictory to our principles to let someone suffer like that, don’t you agree?" The look Yusuf threw at his brothers nearly caused Rauf's blood to run cold. On this table sat five novices, mere children, adolescents, but no men and Yusuf was talking with such unscrupulousness that Rauf stopped dead in his tracks in the confines of the shadows all around.

Only a few moments ago he thought it would be a little fun. He thought he would catch those boys talking about the girls in the village or about some beauty of Damascus or about the daughter of the poisoner down in the village, but never would he have expected to catch them plotting against Altaїr and the brotherhood as a whole. Surely, they were training children into killers in these halls and yet Rauf sunk deeper into the shadows and refrained from shooing those boys with a laugh to their beds. He stayed and kept listening to the whispering of the boys before they were startled by a sudden noise on the staircase leading to the library and caused them to flee the scene of their conspiracy.

He should immediately hurry to speak to Malik and report what he had witnessed during the past minutes, of course, but how should he when he did not have proof for his accusations?

He watched how the five boys hurried towards the kitchen door to escape through there and finally Rauf too stepped out of the shadows and then after a moment into the entrance hall of the fortress. The glow of a single candle illuminated Malik's face when the man walked down the old staircase a thick book jammed under his … Well, under his stump between armpit and body. His jet black hair was ruffled and even against the fact that it was already way past midnight, he appeared to not having slept at all. For Rauf, it was an enigma what he had one so late up in the library.

"What are you doing running around so late?" Malik finally greeted him.

Rauf never imagined himself being a friend of either Malik or Altaїr, because both of them really were masters in building walls around them and to keep people away at a safe distance. Both of them were surrounded by this aura of superiority so no one really dared to bore them with trivialities. And yet, even if he was not set in the same league as those two men they still were friendly to him and they still seemed to appreciate him in their own ways. Rauf really did what he could to help now that the situation was so complicated, but he knew it was not enough. It never was. And the painful truth Yusuf spoke of so blithely before still rested heavily in Rauf' stomach.

"I was going for a walk." Rauf then finally lied. He did not know what had driven him to this lie. He could’ve (should’ve) told Malik right away what he had heard, but then again those boys still were only children and he could not (and won't) believe that those children really meant what they said before. No, it was rather late at night after what had been a long day filled with new and existing things and the night tended to tease out things from growing men when they would put their head together. Things those boys would have easily forgotten by morning. He remembered his own youth still pretty vividly and the conversation by candlelight in the novices sleeping quarters. Of course, it would be kind of far-fetched to call those gatherings back then under the cover of darkness romantic, not when it was a group of boys putting their heads together to plot and tattle, but then again – yes – Rauf really linked some kind of romantic with those nights of his past. Perhaps it only was this naiveté he felt back then when he was just a growing child.

And now that he saw Malik so clearly in front of him, only a few years older than then, he also remembered those other nights and all the things he had watched and about which he had never spoken about or mentioned to anyone – those little shenanigans under the cover of darkness. It was not as if he was naïve. He knew perfectly well what had happened in those nights back then, he knew about the punishment that would be inflicted on them if they would’ve gotten caught, but that was not the real reason why he never talked about what he had seen.

"A midnight stroll?" Malik murmured with this deep voice of his that he would recognize under a thousand and he knew that he could not really lie to the king of swords judging only by the look he was given. Yet Malik did not force him to answer truthfully and Rauf forced a small smile on his face when he asked:

"How's Altaїr? Did he finally eat?"

By now countless bowls of hummus or milk soup had found their ends by the foot of the staircase which led to Altaїr's chambers during the last days. Altaїr was more like a three-year-old child which liked to spit some of the very much hated mush in its father's face and Malik now really resembled such a poor father now when he pressed his lips to a very thin line. "Well, I wouldn’t really call it that, but I think the staircase's walls are slowly getting some kind of a pattern. Perhaps he tries to make some kind of art."

Normally Rauf would’ve laughed at this, but the events he just witnessed held him back. "He will start to eat again as soon as he can't stand the hunger anymore. He just needs a little time to get used to the situation. You know how he is: He can't sit still even if his life would depend on it, not even to mention lying around all day. Don’t you remember the first day of his regime and how suffering he had been when he was confronted with all the paperwork for the first time?"

The line that was Malik's mouth became even thinner. "That was something different."

And yes, it was. Out of all the people in the world, Malik probably knew best what was happening in Altaїr's head now. Rauf could still remember very vividly the weeks which had followed Kadar's death. Malik and Altaїr were very much alike – especially when it came to dealing with stress or grief. "You'll see, Malik, soon he will be back on his feet and then we will wish it would be different."

This was the moment to tell Malik about the conversation he listened to, but once more it flew by unused. "I would love to have your optimism, Rauf."

Now that Malik finally reached the end of the staircase Rauf was granted a small glance at the cover of the book Malik was carrying around. It was a work about ornithology – or to be more precise about various birds of prey. In this vague moment of familiarity between them after all those years together Rauf laid his right hand on Malik's shoulder.

"Don’t worry Altaїr might have broken his wings, but he will fly again. I promise you that."

Because Altaїr simply had no other choice. He needed to learn how to fly again, otherwise, the brotherhood was doomed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last part of this chapter is a trial to break the hiatus on this story. It was quite hard for me to keep writing this story, but I wanted to and I still want to. The main part of this chapter was written in summer of last year and I really enjoyed it, but I couldn't connect to the story any more or the way it was supposed to be going, that was where the hiatus came into place. So I decided to try a new take on this story with a twist, one of probably a few I might add. If you guys like this turn of events and the new direction, I might keep on writing. If not, I guess we could call it over and done and all move on from it XD

"C'mon Altaїr, don’t act like a baby!" Malik would not say he was at his wits' end, no, that far Altaїr did not yet get him. However, by now he was very tempted to say the least, to beat him so long with the hardest book he could find on his stubborn head it would take him until he would start behaving like a normal person again. Not that Altaїr would have ever have behaved like a normal person. "You have to eat damn it!" Part of him said, it shouldn’t concern him whether Altaїr ate or not, if he was starving or not, but it was not that easy. Oh no. He sat on Altaїr's bed, on his nest of pillows and tried to feed him, while Altaїr kept lying there and held his lips pressed into a thin line, like a child which would not eat the porridge its parents tried to feed it with.

He felt terribly stupid as he sat here on this very bed and tried once more to bring one spoonful of soup to Altaїr's sealed lips. And he felt even stupider when Altair turned his head to the side and the soup landed on his nightgown. "Damn it, Altaїr! Stop being such a whiny baby!"

"Why do you care?" The mentor then finally snapped. "You should be happy to see me like this!"

He gritted his teeth, so hardly that his jaw began to ache. Yes, he probably should be happy witnessing Altaїr's misery. "It interests me because you're fucking the Grand Master of the Order and you cannot be that if you behave like a fucking toddler! You reek miserably! No wonder nobody wants to enter this room! Your table almost breaks under the weight of all the paperwork you’ve got to do and I won't take care of that any longer, just because you prefer to wallow in your misfortune and your own piss!"

It was the truth. The whole room smelled terribly of urine and sweat at the very least. Up here in the tower, it was always warm and the air in the room uncomfortably stuffy and humid. It was no wonder after Altaїr did not allow the novices to open his window - and Malik could not always come up here to mother him. But now the novices began to complain about those conditions - even to refuse to come up here again - and Malik could hardly blame them. It was absurd.

This whole situation was absurd. It was absurd that Altaїr behaved like a three-year-old (more than usually anyway) and it was especially absurd that he, Malik Al-Sayf, took part in all this. He did not do it out of pity, oh no, that certainly was not the truth. But maybe he was only a little bit happy that the novices refused to come up here. Like this, no one would see how things really were with the mentor, and thus he maybe would be able to keep at least a little bit of his remaining dignity. He had heard the whispers of others and it did not at all please him.

Now after Al Mualim's death, the Brotherhood was weak and threatened to tear at the seams. Altair's condition did not contribute to the improvement of the situation - at least not as long as he behaved like a petulant toddler.

He saw just in time how Altair tried to slap the bowl of soup out of Malik's hand and backed away with a dark rumble. It was not easy to feed someone with one hand, especially if the one to be fed did not want to cooperate. "You really are beyond help, I should let you starve!" The Rafiq snapped before he placed the soup bowl beside him on the floor.

"Then do it already! Anything is better than this life as a cripple!" Altair's eyes flashed like lightning bolts. He had bared his teeth like a mad dog that was ready to attack, ready you to go straight to his throat and tear him to pieces. "You might intimidate the novices with your ridiculous behavior, Altaїr, but this show doesn’t work with me. So you either eat now voluntarily so that you regain your strength, or I do have to force you."

"Forcing me!" Altaїr spat. I want to see that! How do you, a one-armed cripple, want to force me to do anything?"

There was that word again Malik so loathed and with whom he was so horribly familiar at the same time for a year now. Cripple. It was something else to hear it from the mouth of his "best friend" (and for a moment Malik again doubted his own judgment when he called Altair Ibn-La'Ahad his best friend).He probably should have gotten used to it after all this time, after all, he knew the way the people in the big city looked at him and he actually did not even care that much anymore, but this time it was different.

This time, his nerves were stretched to breaking point. It was hot and stuffy and smelly and he already had to deal with so many stupid complaints all day. It was time this little game came to an end now. "That’s it." Malik growled and was at the head of the mattress before Altair was even aware of it. The struggle with the Grand Master was brief but more intense than he had originally assumed. He did have just one arm, but he did have also one year to learn to deal with his handicap and like this, he was one step ahead of Altair. Under other circumstances, Malik would have thought about their shared past and about their time as novices. The wrestling had always been the only discipline in which he had defeated Altair and nothing this fucking prick had hated more. Oh, how many times they had lain in the mud after an argument, cursing and swearing like mad men! In their youth, they might not have been the best of friends, but still, Malik had felt connected to him, though it had been mostly due to their constant competition. He had loved to compete with him and to know that he was superior to him, at least in this matter.

And that he was even now, though he had not expected it to be like this.

While Altair was tossing on the stinking mattress to escape him, Malik had already wrapped his right leg around his torso and thus pinned Altaїr's right arm to his body. Within seconds, Malik had both legs wrapped around his torso and clamped his arms at Altaїr's sides. "You have to get up earlier if you want to take it on with me, novice." Malik growled and the nickname he had once given Altair in mockery escaped him without even thinking about it.

The next moment Altaїr ended his losing battle against the Rafiq and Malik did not even know if it was because Altaїr finally understood that there was no point in continuing to fight against him or if it was the nickname which had this effect on Altaїr's spirits. It had begun as a mockery and evolved into a little squabble between friends. It had become a word that no one but Malik was allowed to use for the mentor.

"Are you going to eat now or do I have to force you?" Malik growled before his gaze slid to the door. He had not pushed the bolt down, but only a select few ever ventured actually up here. So the danger that they would be caught in this most remarkable situation was quite low. Probably it would be the poor Rauf, who would catch them. On the other hand, Malik knew how to explain his present attitude logically - even if he probably was the only one who would dare to treat their mentor like this.

He crouched behind Altaїr on the mattress, his legs wrapped around Altaїr's torso like a bear trap from which the mentor could not escape. Now, he had only one arm, so he would need his legs for help when the Grand Master did not know how to behave - and he was even a little proud of himself that he was barely even exhausted in spite of this little fight. He still got it, as the novices would say.

Altaїr still denied him the answer to his question, but even by looking at his face only from the side, Malik could see that his lips were again sealed and pressed into a very thin line, while he was starting stubbornly straight ahead. Altaїr was even more stubborn than a goat if he needed to. He was even more stubborn than a mule and he always wanted to bash his head against a wall.

Actually, Altaїr had much more in common with a mule than with a proud and graceful bird of prey! "Your father should have called you Himar!" Malik finally groaned.

Upon other terms, he might have rejoiced at the small vein that stood out on Altaїr's temple and was softly throbbing - today he only felt a mild satisfaction. With great skill Malik finally placed the bowl of now cold soup jammed between his knees so that he could try to feed him once again with his right hand.

It was not easy and in fact he really could use a second hand to force Altaїr's jaw open, but ow it needed to work with this one hand and finally he succeeded, but only after he pushed the wooden spoon so hard against Altaїr's lips that he already managed to split them and could see a thin red thread of blood and spit. After he broke the resistance of Altaїr's clenched teeth the first spoon full of delicious soup found its way inside his mouth.

"Woe you spit!" Malik hissed from behind. "I swear I beat the crap out of you, Altaїr."

But Altaїr swallowed and yet Malik did not allow himself to drop his guard or relax at all. Oh no, he knew this moron too long and too good already. He knew how stubborn he could be - hardly to talk about how he behaved when it came to bathing and that was only just one more obstacle he needed to overtake. He managed it even to feed him one more spoon before he spoke again.

"Things can't keep going on like this, Altaїr. You need to get back to your feet; otherwise, you will have been the mentor for the longest time. Nobody wants to follow some weak idiot who drowns in his despair like you are doing right now. You don’t even know how happy you are for having a friend like Rauf by your side out there." Or like me, who does your work and tries to tame you, so that you won't starve or die of thirst – but this he kept to himself, maybe even because he hoped Altaїr felt like this himself.

But again Altaїr began to fight back against him, even though he had no chance against the vises Malik called his legs. "Why did you even care?!" Altair growled and finally, he almost choked to death on another spoon full of soup that was maneuvered into his mouth by Malik while he spoke. "I've got your brother killed. Because of me, you are a fucking cripple now. Because of me, you are worthless for the Order. You should be glad seeing me lying in my own shit starving to death!"

Again a bit of the delicious soup found its way inside Altaїr's windpipe when Malik forced another spoon into his mouth. Almost the entire rest of the soup would have got spilled over Altaїr's dirty nightgown when Altaїr started coughing so heavily that his whole body was shaking.

"Stop that!" He gasped in frustration, but Malik again raised the spoon to silence him. Was not thinking about what he was doing, he just did it. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and it was actually a little bit fun to see how Altaїr choked on the soup again and again with every new spoon, while Malik carried out his mission. "Malik!" He coughed. "Now stop it!"

Altaїr's face was as red as a lobster on the beach of Lattakia and the first tears were already running down his cheeks because of his exhaustion and the effort it cost him to even speak. He writhed in Malik's merciless grip, now that he noticed that Malik would not stop and enjoyed so to see him like this and maybe he would have continued, perhaps he would have further tormented him if it wasn’t for the door being opened or for Rauf who slowly shoved his head into the room only to open the door fully by the display.

"What are you doing here?" He asked with a mixture of alert and honest shame in his round and very bearded face. His face was red mottled as if he could not quite decide whether he should be embarrassed by the display that was revealed to him or whether it was just a normal squabble between grandmasters and Dai.

Then Malik let the spoon fall back into the bowl and Altaїr give up his fight. "Do not worry Rauf, it's all right." Malik grumbled and broke away from Altaїr. With the bowl in the right hand, he rose from his spot. It was still half full, but he doubted that Altaїr would eat the rest by himself.

Only shortly he turned his gaze to Altaїr. Altaїr really looked terrible, no wonder Rauf appeared to be so alarmed. The soup was dripping from his beard onto his nightgown, his lips were brittle and ripped and bloody from Malik's rough feeding, his face was blotched red and wet, just as his amber eyes were. Without having Malik in his back to keep his body supported, he could hardly stay up and fell back on his elbows. Remorse for hit attack on the defenseless man hit him like a hammer against his thick skull. To tackle Altaїr like that had been not right and yet it seemed to have worked because before Malik could distance himself too far with the bowl of soup, Altaїr grabbed his arm and took the bowl from him.

Malik almost expected him to throw the bowl at him, instead, the man brought the bowl to his torn lips to drink the rest of the soup by himself. Was that progress? A step forward in the right direction? Malik could not tell. He could not decide if Altaїr was merely intimidated by Malik's gruff treatment (though Malik thought this to be highly unlikely) or if he really manages to wake at least enough of Altaїr's spirit to get him to want to get back to his feet only to kick his – Malik Al-Sayf's – ass. Whatever the reason was that he was now eating voluntarily (more or less at least), he was eating and that was the main thing that mattered now because only when he would eat, he would be able to regain his strength.

Poor Rauf still looked back and forth between the two men (his two closest friends) and did not seem to know what to really make of all this. Malik did know Rauf well enough to know that the guy was sincerely worried about Altaїr – yes, he probably even feared Malik could harm him (or rather harmed him); now that he could not defend himself against the Dai.

"Is there really everything alright, mentor?" Rauf turned to Altaїr again, even though the Mentor was still stuck into his soup bowl before he finally set it down next to his stinking mattress. If he would not know any better that Altair always had had a penchant for being dirtier than the normal assassin, he would have mistaken him for a beggar in Damascus or Aleppo.

"Yes" He muttered then, although his voice was hoarse and his breath was still a little rattled in his throat. Malik almost regretted tormenting the mentor like this, but at least he now had something in his stomach, something his body could now work with and draw energy from. "Your concern is misplaced here, Rauf."

Malik, who now went to out the bowl aside, noticed the dark flash out of amber eyes very much. Altaїr was full of rage for him and he could hardly blame him. If their places were swapped, he would have felt the same as he – no, being in the same situation as Altaїr before, he had felt the same way. Malik knew what it felt like to wake up and be nothing more than a cripple all of the sudden. He knew about the deep seated anger one would experience when their body would not move like they were used to and refused to follow their commands. Was it worse for Altaїr now because it was his legs that refused to cooperate? Was it Malik who was the one who got it worse, because he not only lost a part of his body but the last remaining family he had left? Was there any way to compare those twists of fate somehow?

Probably not.

They both had their own pains to deal with and their own burdens to carry and now it was the time that Altair learned how to handle this and how to move forward with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Rauf nodded and he looked very much like a frail servant with a nervous tic. He was about to walk out of the room already again, as Malik called him back and he noticed how Rauf scrunched up his face only a tiny bit. Malik could hardly blame him, really. The stench lingering in the room was unbearable. "Rauf, would you be so kind and tell Naim to prepare water for a bath?" He chose his words with great care. Of course, it may be wiser to make it possibly for the Mentor to have a proper bath down in the Hamam of the fortress, but then again Malik thought back to the days after he had lost his arm. Nothing had him thrown off so much as facing the other assassins – his brothers. No, it had to be here, in Altaїr's own four walls, in his refuge, his aerie, and he – Malik – was the one to help him with this. It was almost ironic, wasn’t it? Was this destiny's ugly face?

If the situation would not be as serious and terrifying, he would have maybe laughed. Under different circumstances, this would be a story him and Altaїr would laugh about over a glass of Arak! Rauf nodded again, even though his gaze shifted to Altaїr. Malik noticed that Rauf wanted to say something, but then he did not and left. Whatever it was he had wanted to say, maybe it was better that he kept it to himself.

Not even an hour later, the last pitcher of water rippled into the tub standing near the fireplace, in which Malik had lit a fire with a bit more effort than usually. Normally he would not have cared for preparing a fire, but Altaїr liked it warm. The mentor was no friend of cold places. He had hated the cold nights in the bureau of Jerusalem and always stolen all the blankets and pillows he could find in Malik's office to polish his little nest out in the courtyard to sleep under the starry sky. He almost laughed about those weird thoughts of his and about the fact, that he really cared so much about Altaїr's wellbeing., but as he then helped Altaїr undress (not only a little fight of course), he was glad that he indeed was so concerned.

Altaїr's skin was cold as ice and damp from sweat. "You cannot hang your head like this, goddamnit!" Malik cursed, even though he felt as though he was repeating himself every day now, like one of the merchants in Jerusalem, shouting the same things day in and day out. He would die and still have those words on his lips. What an idea! He would grow old and gray quick with Altaїr by his side than he needed to for sure.

In the moment, when Malik finally sat down on the small stool next to the tub, he wondered how he and Rauf had managed to get Altaїr in the water at all. Sure thing he was at a disadvantage to them, but thinking he would be inferior to them because of this was a great mistake. No one should ever underestimate what this man could do even without legs. He had put up quite the fight, even naked, even without his legs kicking in all directions, but now he sat in this tub with his back crooked and his arms wrapped around his useless knew. Malik had looked away on purpose, acting as though he needed to search for something, when Altaїr had pulled his legs in the right positions with his hands. At least this little privacy he wanted to grant him because he knew how it must feel to him. He knew still oh so very vividly how it had been to tie his belt for the first time after he had lost his arm .he still knew how frustrated he got and how he had waited until he had been alone, so no one would watch him. Back then he had shed more than just one tear. It was not easy. It was never easy. And it would never get easy. When one lost a part of their body, it was like losing a loved one and one would need to suffer through the same stages of grievance. Back then Malik had been hit by both things at the same time and Altaїr still had his legs at least – and yet Malik understood.

He understood and because he understood he was the one who needed to kick his ass.

He did not sigh when he squeezed the sponge and started to wash Altaїrs back because he refrained from it. He sighed too much anyway in Altaїr's proximity. No wonder. Everyone was sighing more than usually in Altaїr's proximity. "You could do that yourself, you know?" He instead murmured to ease his mind.

"But what should you whine about then?" Altair grumbled.

"Don't you worry about that, you are giving me more than enough reasons to whine for sure, old friend." He watched how the water was running down Altaїr's back, while he was rubbing the sponge with circling motions over his toned skin. It wasn’t the first time he saw Altaїr naked and basically, it interested him not much if Altaїr sat here naked or fully dressed, but it was the first time since … a long while, that he saw him naked and had the time to really study his body and all the new scars ha did not know yet.

He noticed the one or another lighter spot on his skin which he knew and he suppressed the strange sensation of wanting to brush his fingers over them. A few of those wounds he himself had sewn shut, sometimes more skilled, sometimes more clumsy. Just like the long scar on his left shoulder where he had been hit by an arrow a few months ago by one of the archers on the rooftops of Jerusalem. Oh, how he had been cursing as Malik had sewn his wound (and oh how Malik had been cursing because of the blood ruining his carpet)!

"That is too much of an honor." Altaїr mumbled. He was brave. Malik knew about the terror Altaїr felt when he was confronted with water and yet he hardly let it show and even when Malik brushed against one of the slowly healing wounds of his, he did not even flinch. "You have too much confidence in my skills. I am not that good."

"How could I?" Malik chuckled softly. "I never knew a greater nuisance than you."

Was he imagining things, or was that a small grin on Altaїr's haggard face? It was hard to tell because of the beard that had grown out of his face lately. The guy grew hair like weeds. It had always been like this and as novices 8as children) everyone had envied Altaїr for this trait. Well, everyone except Abbas, maybe, because he had always looked more like an ape. Back then it had only fueled Altaїr's ego that he had been the first of them to grow a beard, but that had soon lost its appeal to him, eager to work as he was.

"It's time you find yourself a wife, Altaїr. I will not be around forever to groom you and I am not as skilled with scissors as I used to be back then when you came home after months with your hair so long it reached your chin."

Altaїr's ears were glowing in a beautiful dark read. "You are the most skilled man I ever knew, even with just one hand." He mumbled into his dark beard.

"What was that?" Malik chuckled. "Did I hear a compliment out of the big mouth of the great Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad? You are probably still suffering from fever. It's either that or I am getting old real fast."

"No, I mean it." He muttered finally. "You always were the more skilled one of us. I always envied you for that. Not only when it comes to handling needle and thread, but handling other people."

Malik felt how his eyebrows were knotting themselves together without his doing, as he then began to literally wash Altaїr's stubborn head. "It's not yet time for a eulogy, Altaїr. You can praise me and butter me up when you are lying on your deathbed before that day will come, you'll only make me worry about your sanity saying such things."

"I bet you will conk out before me." Altaїr mumbled suddenly and Malik could hardly suppress laughter at the spontaneous reaction.

"Yes, when you are keep going on like this, I will. I will never find a decent wife or have a family because I will need to babysit you for the rest of my life."

For a moment there was silence ruling over the room and Malik suddenly doubted that his words had been wise, but then again Altaїr had never necessarily been a sensitive guy. "Maybe you don’t need to do that. I have an idea."

An idea. Yes, that was a step in the right direction for sure. And yet, Altaїr's ideas were often followed by immense chaos. He probably should not doom this right from the start but rather see it as a change considering the current circumstances. How much could this man really cause havoc now? The fact alone that Altaїr was making plans already again was reason enough to find confidence in their mentor, even though Malik doubted that Altaїr was able to get back on his feet so quickly. It was too good to be true.

 

※※※※※

 

There was no knock on the door, no ring to pull him back to reality - Only a large hand suddenly grabbing his shoulder and strong fingers digging into his damp skin so hard it almost hurt. "What the hell is that?" The voice was loud and deep and made him flinch in a moment of utter surprise and shock as he was ripped out of the world inside of his head Masyaf Castle was slowly falling apart in front of his eyes. "Is that how you see me? Really? » _and finally he succeeded, but only after he pushed the wooden spoon so hard against Altaїr's lips that he already managed to split them and could see a thin red thread of blood and spit«_. I thought you were a soldier, not a writer!"

Altaїr grabbed the papers Malik tried to rip from his desk and steal them away from under Altaїr's left elbow, laying uselessly on the wooden table, for no one was ever supposed to read the crap he was writing. "Give it back!" He hissed, but Malik was faster and moved away from the desk, a few of the pages between the fingers of his remaining hand, studying them with knotted eyebrows and a gloom so dark, it would leave strangers frozen in fear. Altaїr wanted to come after him, but when the large wheel of his wheelchair hit the edge of his desk and made his half empty cup of cold coffee spill all over his desk, he only cursed and tried to save the remaining pages still lying on his desk before they would get soaked in cold disgusting coffee.

"Who writes like this anyway nowadays? You have a perfectly fine laptop! I must know, I bought it for you for Christmas last year!" Malik frowned at him, while Altaїr still tried to get his papers back, cursing about the disadvantage he had against Malik when the man raised his hand enough so he would not be able to reach the documents with Malik's eyes still darting over the paragraphs he had last written. Masyaf was still in his mind and it took a moment for him to shake off the images he had tried to describe in his work. He could still see Malik in his blue and white robes in front of him and suddenly he felt embarrassed more than anything else. "What's with all the drama in this story, really? You falling from a tower? Me losing my brother and my arm in a fight? Assassins? A secret brotherhood? Really, Altaїr. You should go outside more. It’s a beautiful day."

With that Malik finally gave back the paper to Altaїr and walked towards one of the large windows of the little shag Altaїr called his home to open the dirty window with a sudden jolt, sending a boom of sunlight and fresh air into the flat like a shockwave of water flooding the room. "It stinks." Altaїr hissed. "Close it." He hated the smock of the big city that was Cologne. He hated to listen to the cars driving by or the people chatting away their days as if everything was fine. He hated this city. He rather dreamt himself back to Masyaf. Maybe he could write another story about this place of which he had only seen pictures when it already laid in ruins. But in his mind, it was a beautiful fortress with towers and arches, with secret passageways and bays.

"Yeah, you know what? That’s called fresh air and you could use a bit of fresh air really. How long have you been holed up in here now anyway?"

"I don’t know." A week? Maybe two? The changing of day and night was a blur to him now, but judging by the way his clothes smelled he was wearing them for a good of three or four days now at least already. There were a few plates standing around his tiny flat with half eaten food and to be honest Altaїr had not even the slightest hint of an idea where this food had even come from. It had just appeared apparently.

"You stink," Malik concluded ripping open yet another window, before turning to him again and then slowly closing the distance between them. His black hair looked messy, his jaw needed a shave again and the left sleeve of his jacket was pinned up so it would not dangle uselessly around him. He was not wearing his prosthesis. He rarely did. Malik Al-Sayf was a man of strong build, all muscle, and sinew just as he himself used to be. He was still a soldier, though maybe a broken one, but every inch of his body still told of authority, still called for submission. When Malik bridged the distance between them he was towering over Altaїr and made him feel even smaller and weaker than he already had. Maybe he could sense this, because Malik finally bowed down a bit to meet him at eye level again, his dark brown orbs drilling into Altaїr's amber ones. "Your flat stinks. You need to wash and if you won't do it freely, I will do it as you wrote it in this awful story of yours."


	5. Phase II - Anger

The moment he entered the _flat_ , he felt directly addressed by the pessimistic realistic attitude towards life that Altaїr had seemingly developed throughout the last few months, which was sadly so very much different from the way Altaїr used to be before all of this had happened. Writing a story about how he was an assassin and had fallen from a tower was more like the Altaїr he had known originally. Making himself one of the best, if not _the_ best among the other assassins in some secretive brotherhood, was something he should have known he would write to please his egocentric nature. After all Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad was just a spoiled brat. He always had been.

As he now had a moment to look around Altaїr's flat, he noticed how run down the place really was. The already yellowed wallpaper was slowly peeling off the walls around them and only gave a glimpse of the extent of the old water damages that had occurred over the course of the last fifty years. The floorboards gave in squeakily beneath his footsteps, while he was walking through the scraggy room that contained the small kitchen just as well as the living space. It was a tiny apartment in the bad part of town, just big enough for a single to live in without missing the necessary comforts that one would expect when living in a city as big as Cologne. The dirty windows were so smeared they hardly let the sunlight of this warm mid-April day into the flat and the world outside seen through those windows was a grayish mesh of wasteland and agony. The frames of the old windows were still made of wood and looked broken and all in all the windows appeared as if they would give in during the next thunderstorm which surely was bound to hit the city soon. It smelled moldy of the moisture within the walls protruding from every corner like a deadly disease.

Critically he furrowed his eyebrows as he came to terms with the given situation. However, even the worst moth-eaten mattress receded into the background at the sight of this _boy_. Appraisingly he took in his appearance, darting his eyes over the narrow waist which once seemed to have been created only to fit perfectly into Malik's hands and was now cut with sharp contours. Even while sitting in his chair and being fully clothes it seemed as if Altaїr's sharp hip bones were protruding prominently out of his body. His usually bright eyes were dull and pale as if he had come to terms with his position here. As if he had resigned. It was an understatement to say that this was not what Malik had expected to see when visiting Altaїr for sure.

The flat was narrow and small and not at all designed to hold a disabled person. Most flats in buildings such as this one weren't. This house had been built in the fifties when Germany was still getting back to its feet after the war and they were not designed to be luxurious or anything more than they needed to be. Houses such as this one had been built to house as many people on small space as possible back then and now the district of Chorweiler sometimes seemed like a town of its own, its skyline cutting right through the skyline of Cologne which postcards would usually show. He could understand that Altaїr would rather dream himself to a place as beautiful as the Masyaf he had created in his story. Here everything was gray and dull and promised only little hope for the future - if any hope at all.

Of course, the real Altaїr was making a lot more fuss about bathing then his counterpart in the story, though Malik still had to admit that Altaїr had delivered his personality quite decently onto the paper. The only advantage Malik himself had was that his Altaїr was sitting in a wheelchair. He did not need to drag or carry him anywhere and even though pushing a wheelchair with just one hand was not the easiest thing in the world too, it was easier than what his counterpart had to deal with in Altaїr's story.

"Get out already." Altaїr snarled, as Malik turned to him again. The flat was a disaster really. It was dirty and not just untidy. It was _dirty_ just like Altaїr and his clothes. "I don’t need your help! So just leave, do whatever it is you're doing nowadays!"

A part of him might be even able to understand his resentment and anger. He had not been here for a while to check on him, but he was here now. "Your dad asked me how you're holding up." He instead replied as he bridged the distance between them to grab the right handle of Altaїr's wheelchair after he was now stuck with one wheel at the edge of his table.  Altaїr, however, slapped his hand away and grabbed the wheels and Malik let him.

"My dad can go fuck himself!" He growled. "If he would really worry, he would come by!"

Malik spared him a small glare, but then he slowly walked to the bathroom. If he had expected the bathroom looking cleaner than the rest of the flat, he was disappointed hilariously even though there really was nothing funny about this. The bathroom was moldy and smelled damp with only an old bathtub-shower combination inside, a dirty rusty old sink and a disgusting looking toilet. The old folded shower curtain looked _green_ and all in all so disgusting Malik would rather burn the thing. Malik paused for a moment after he had turned on the light. There was no way Altaїr was able to use the toilet by himself. No way. On his way up here to the twelfths floor he had noticed that the elevator was quite narrow too, so maneuvering a wheelchair in and out of the thing could be tricky too. What in the world had Altaїr thought renting this flat? His wheelchair did not even fit inside this bathroom! And yet Malik caught himself again and stepped up to the tub to prepare a bath, sitting down carefully on the rim of the tub and contemplating how he would get Altaїr into the tub.

A smirk brushed over his face remembering this story again. Well, he could indeed call Rauf to help him, but he would not. Altaїr would never forgive him for letting him be seen by their friend like this. Maybe he was even right with the anger he was constantly feeling towards Malik. He had left him, hadn't he? He should have been there when the accident happened, but he had been so busy with himself and his own losses… And now he was here and tried to make it up to Altaїr and though he wanted to make him feel better and help him in this situation, it felt somewhat wrong to him, for he had not let Altaїr do the same thing when he had lost his arm. He had shooed him away until Altaїr would not come around any longer. Maybe that was why he was here now really. Their friends started to complain about Altaїr's behavior and the circumstances. They did not want to come here any longer to look after him and he could not blame them. A part of him had even wondered and paused when he had left the elevator a few minutes ago, what he was doing here really. He got the key to the flat from Maria and he had entered trying not to think about the pros and cons why he should not have come here after he had tried to ban Altaїr from his life, blaming him for the losses he had endured before. This whole situation…everything… was just so weird and complicated it seemed.

The water ran into the bathtub orange and rusty for a moment before it came out clear for Malik to put in the plug and wait for the water to fill the tub. There was an old half empty dusty bottle of bath salts he uncapped with his one hand and poured in. He recognized the smell of it. Altaїr had never been a big friend of water or bathing due to an incident during their childhood which Malik still vividly recalled, but when they had been together he had liked taking a bath with him, pouring in ridiculous amounts of this very bath salt into the tub until the water was all bubbly and nice. Malik liked to think about those easier times lately, although he was painfully aware that those days were long gone and would never come back again after everything that had happened between them.

When the tub was full, he turned off the water and went back into the main room of the flat where Altaїr still sat in his wheelchair, slightly turned towards the bathroom. He managed to free himself from the tricky table leg, but his hands still clawed at the wheels, when Malik leaned in the doorframe and grabbed his left shoulder with his right hand. This was his way of crossing his arms he guessed. "How are you even using the bathroom?" Malik asked his voice dripping with disbelieve for this situation Altaїr had managed to maneuver himself into. He was scaring away every person who once liked him, he was yelling at people who came to his aid, he was vegetating inside this flat, letting everything fall to rot, not caring for the dirt in his flat or the garbage piling up. His jaw was overgrown with a thick scratchy looking beard. He did not look like the energetic twenty-six-year-old he had been.

"I can manage myself just fine." Altaїr answered back crossing his arms and like that finally letting go of his wheels. "I do not need another cripple to help me out here. My arms are perfectly intact. I can crawl everywhere I want to go."

He could crawl. This sounded so strange, this sounded so wrong. Altaїr was supposed to fly. He was supposed to run, not to crawl. He had seen him in this wheelchair before; he had seen him right after the accident and even seen him in the hospital recovering when Altaїr had not been aware of everything yet. It had crushed him back then and it was crushing him even harder now, but pity was the last thing he wanted to show to Altaїr because pity would not help any of them in any way. Instead of letting his emotions show, he cocked an eyebrow at this reply and tried to look as neutral and passive as he possibly could even though Altaїr was the one person on this planet knowing him best apparently. "So you coming then? Your bath is ready. Show me how good you can handle yourself. I'd really like to see how you're thinking to climb into the bathtub." He wanted to provoke him because that had always proven to be the best approach. Altaїr was arrogant. He was self-consumed. He was vain. He was all of this but what he was the most was being competitive - that only lead to his momentary state of being, honestly. "Because you know it's quite stupid for a cripple such as you are to live in a flat such as this." Altaїr grit his teeth perfectly for Malik to see and enjoy and Malik knew he had him where he wanted him. _He_ did not need to force Altaїr. _He_ did not need to call Rauf as support to get this stubborn mule into the bathtub, unlike his counterpart in this story.

And yet he was flabbergasted that Altaїr was clearly capable of seeing his flaws like he had described them in his story, but was not able to change something about it in real life. Maybe… Maybe he did not see them as flaws that needed changing and maybe he was even right, because if Malik was honest to himself at least - he always liked Altaїr's thick skull, his stubbornness and the way he approached a situation; never cowering in fear in the face of an obstacle but rather getting on it, head first, telling himself and everyone else that if not him who else would be able to do the thing?

Malik turned around after Altaїr fell for the trap. He did not want to watch him, while he was coming after him, even though Malik still questioned how he wanted to get into the bathroom and through that door. Suddenly he was not so sure if Altaїr had used the toilet the traditional way at all in the past. He did not want to dwell on it.

When he went back into the bathroom he heard a little thump behind him, and though he wanted to whirl around alerted immediately, he forced his body to stand still and walk on towards the small sink. He needed to busy his hands, as he heard the pitter-patter of Altaїr's hands on the ground, so he grabbed a cloth and some of the bathroom cleaner Altaїr had next to his shampoo on the rim of the tub and started scrubbing away at the dirt in the sink. He could not turn around to watch him. Not because Altaїr might feel intimidated or humiliated or angry and stop, but because he would want to come to his help if he would see how this proud man was slowly dragging his body through the door only with the help of his hands. Malik bit the inside of his left cheek when he heard him entering the bathroom. He was fast, but of course, the strength in his upper body had somewhat remained after he was apparently indeed always crawling around like this. It was ridiculous. He had enough money to find a decent flat, a flat that was designed for wheelchairs with a shower he could enter without a problem, with furniture he could reach, with a toilet he could use!

But he decided to dwell on his self-pity and his tragedy instead and this was the real reason Malik felt so very angry. But then again … he was no better, wasn’t he?

 

※※※※※

 

"Malik." Altaїr's voice nowadays was always like a never vanishing kind of sickness in Malik's ears. He hated its sound. He wanted to shout at him to just shut the fuck up and stop talking to him. He could not stand his voice. It literally hurt his ears and gnawed at his nerves, even though he knew Altaїr was talking lesser and lesser to him. He had started talking _about_ him instead. He was talking with their friends about him and their _situation_. Altaїr thought he did not know, but he did. He lost his arm, not his brains. "Malik!"

"What?" He hissed turning around and dropping the cup of coffee he had wanted to prepare in the wake of his right hand. It shattered on the ground between him and his boyfriend. For a moment Altaїr just looked at him and Malik could see the pity in his eyes he hated so much. He could not stand being around Altaїr anymore. He could not stand his eyes, his looks, his presence always hovering around him! Always close by, just in case something happened. With a sigh, Altaїr grabbed a wet cloth from the sink next to him in their small kitchen and bent down to tidy up the mess Malik had made with his clumsy right hand. "I can do this myself!" Malik groaned, bending down himself and ripping the cloth violently from Altaїr's hand to start tidying up. He found himself wanting to grab the shards with his left hand again and again, but it was not there and cleaning up something with just one hand felt tedious and straining all of the sudden. Such a mediocre tiny task was already able to set him off and Altaїr knew this. That was why he tended to do it himself and Malik hated it.

He hated him.

 

※※※※※

 

He did not help Altaїr out of his clothes. Not only because the man would not want him to, not only because it was part of the challenge, but because it felt wrong. He knew every bit of skin on Altaїr's body. He knew every little scar and yet it would feel wrong to help him getting undressed in this situation. They were no couple anymore. Malik had broken this thing they had going for them. He had broken the trust between them and yet Altaїr seemed to trust him enough to get naked in his presence.

He heard him hiss in anger when he wrestled with his jeans and kept on scrubbing the sink. He had expected a bigger battle. He had not expected Altaїr to really get into the tub freely. He had expected him to argue about it, to make a fuss about it. But he wanted to prove to Malik that he was indeed capable of doing this thing. He was not. Malik knew this and yet he kept on scrubbing, doing his best to act as if he would not hear Altaїr's angry noises, doing his best to act as if he would not hear the squeak as his fingers slipped on the bathtub's edge as he tried to pull his body up to sit on the rim, while he was clenching the cloth so hard in his hand his knuckles turned white. He could not help him. He simply could not. He could not break his pride any further and Altaїr needed to see and learn that he could not keep on going like this without ever accepting any form of help from others around him.

He landed in the tub with a splash and with water shooting over the rim and dripping to the floor tiles, but at least he managed to get inside and when Malik turned there was a satisfied, yes even smug, look on his face. "See?" The man asked and cocked his brow at Malik as to proof a point here and not realizing that he only proofed Malik's point in the process.

"Great. So, how are you going to get out?" Malik then turned towards him, grabbing his shoulder again.

"The same way I got in." Altaїr growled, but Malik rolled his eyes.

"Fine then. Bathe, you dirty pig, and I clean up the mess you’ve made. Just yell if you need me." Malik had had time to adjust to his disability. He had learned to manage his daily routines with just one hand. There were people in the world without legs and arms and they still managed a life so why couldn’t he? The internet had taught him some fine tricks in the past and so he went on to clean Altaїr's flat as if it was the most normal thing to do – because it was. And Altaїr needed to learn this too. He needed to learn to cope with this disability. He needed to learn how to manage his life alone. But it was so hard leaving someone in such a situation fending for themselves. It hurt. It was heartbreaking. And it was probably how Altaїr had felt back then with him.

He left the room to leave him to himself. "I expect you to shave off that beard of yours too!" He shouted back over his shoulder but only got a grunt in response, before he walked to the kitchen and prepared a bucket of soapy water. He did not even know where to start, so he started with the window. He could not even really concentrate on it, listening to the sounds coming from the bathroom so he would hear it when Altaїr would need help. Altaїr would never call out for him, that much he knew.

 

※※※※※

 

It was worse than he had described it in his story. In his story, Malik had been at his side and more importantly _on_ his side. One could argue that it was his own fault and he would probably agree on that. He could have Malik on his side, but then again, no. It was Malik who had left him. Malik who had crushed their relationship. It was not him. He would have stayed! He would have stayed no matter what! Malik was his best friend and his first true love and yet he crushed all of this and now he was here.

And Altaїr did not understand why.

He much rather dreamed himself back to his story where he had been the one fucking up everything because that was usually how it went. He was still fucking up everything in his life. Surely somehow he had fucked up this relationship too and that simply by being around the man he loved. But now he could not get back to it and have Malik here with him made it just worse and worse and worse for him. But in the same moment hearing him moving about his business in his flat, brought a sense of the old familiarity with it too and he enjoyed that.  Or at least a part of him did. The part that was not this bitter piece of shit he let get to the surface mostly.

He did not like being in the water honestly. He enjoyed showers and he could even shower for a long time without a problem. He liked that, but he hated bathing. He hated sitting engulfed in water, though he was more like lying right now. He felt uncomfortable in the warm water and the bath salts made it hardly any better, no matter that he had always quite enjoyed their smell in the past. He still fondly remembered every time he and Malik had gone to just go shopping and how he always nagged him to buy him those bath salts again - because really, everything was better when one's boyfriend bought it.

Still, at some point, he started to scrub away at his body with a large sponge. He knew that he stunk. He had not bathed or showered in weeks because Malik was right. He had a hard time getting into that tub and out was even harder, although he would never admit to that in Malik's presence. The most he did was wash with a simple washcloth so he would not smell that bad, but even that he had not done for at least a week now. Why should he anyway? For whom? For what? He was vegetating inside his flat, that was it. His life was officially canceled.

He scrubbed harder at his skull to get his hair clean again before he sank down a bit more to have an easier time washing the soap out of his hair. He needed a haircut. But he would not get out to get it because he did not want people to see him in his wheelchair. It was hard enough for him already when he would need to leave the house because he had no other choice. The people around here knew him. They did not know him well of course, but well enough! _Before the accident_.

Now they only knew him as the freak in the wheelchair who never left his flat. For a while, after he was done scrubbing his skin red, he just listened to Malik rummaging his flat and although he tried to imagine as if he was back in his old life, back to Malik cooking dinner in their kitchen, he could not bring his brain to buy into this lie he tried to tell himself. So, he decided it was time to get up instead. He grabbed the rim of the bathtub with both his hands to get to his feet and then froze in horror as neither his feet nor his legs were cooperating. For just this split second he had forgotten and now he could not get out of the tub.

 

※※※※※

 

It was not only the dishes piling up in Altaїr's living room, it also where the various bills and letters he had received but never opened. Electricity bills, water bills, gas bills, letters from his workplace, letters from his health insurance, letters from his physicians – all piling up in the flat. Altaїr was turning a blind eye to all of this apparently, not caring for his mail, not caring for his surroundings, not caring for himself or the way his life was spiraling out of control. Granted that Altaїr had never been good with paperwork and all of this important stuff, but at least he had been able to take care of his finances and his life by himself, with Malik only to ever nag him about this when the tax return was lurking behind the next corner. That seemed to be different now and it made him sick to the stomach acknowledging this fact. But for the most part, it made him furious. He was just about to rip open one of the most important looking envelopes, as he heard a loud _thump_ coming from the bathroom. He really wanted to stay put, to let Altaїr handle himself, but he was already at the bathroom door not even finishing this thought of his.

The bathroom door was still open and so nothing was blocking Malik's sight, as he found Altaїr naked, wet and lying on the tiles with his face facing the floor, cursing under his breath. Malik was at his side within the blink of an eye, grabbing him under his right arm to help to get him up to the edge of the tub again. He did not think about it. He did not ponder if it was right or if Altaїr might feel embarrassed needing help like this. His skin was slippery like a fish under Malik's fingers, but at least he managed to get him into a sitting position and it was only then that Malik noticed the dark glare Altaїr regarded him with.

"So, let's not do this again." Malik sighed and grabbed one of the large towels to wrap it around the man in front of him. Altaїr's dark glare remained fixed upon Malik and it certainly appeared much more dangerous with the beard around Altaїr's face. If he would leave the house like that people would surely look at him as if he was a terrorist. People in Germany were overly frightened anyway lately. Well… then again Germans always were frightened of anything in general and since he grew up in this country he could not even push this truth past himself too. Altair had always been different. He was afraid of nothing. Granted, this only brought him into this situation. "Don’t look at me like that, Altaїr. It's not my fault that you are such a dumb shit, alright? I told you! I told you, you won't be able to get into that tub on your own."

"I did."

"But you didn’t get out!"

"I did!"

"Yes you did and you could have hit your head on your way out too! How do you want to reach the sink? How brush your teeth if you cannot reach your toothbrush? By the way, your breath smells horrible. How do you think on shaving your face if you cannot reach the razor?" He just gritted his teeth. "Please, Altaїr you must see that this is getting ridiculous. This flat is too small and you cannot maneuver around in your wheelchair inside your own flat! You need to move and you need to pull your head out of your ass for Christ's sake! Do you have any clue how many unpaid bills I found already lying around? This is serious, Altaїr!"

"I know it is! Don’t act like I'm a fucking child! It's not you who sits in a wheelchair so don’t you fucking tell me what is serious and what not! Just fuck off! I don’t need you here! I don’t want you here and I don’t need your help!" Altaїr finally shouted fuming with rage and his once ridiculously white teeth stained with a slight yellow-ish tint.

"Yes, you do!" Malik hissed, grabbing his shoulder harder around the towel he threw around his ex. "You do need my help you stubborn mule! The others are already dreading coming to you! Didn’t you wonder why Maria or Rauf had not been here for a while now? They don’t want to come near you again! You are disgusting, don’t you notice? You smell, your breath is foul, you are unkempt, you haven’t washed in probably weeks! Your flat reeks! It's dirty! There are bugs crawling around your half eaten food that is standing around everywhere and your garbage is piling up while you just sit around and let it all happen! I don’t want to find your name written in the death notice! I don’t want to hear that strangers need to clear your flat like you was just some kind of petty hoarder! I don’t want that someone someday will find you dead in here alerted by the smell only because you managed to scare away all of your very few friends!"

"That doesn’t concern you! _You_ broke up with me! You wanted me out of your life! You don’t have the right to barge into mine now and tell me what to do! You don’t have the right to worry about me! Just get the hell out!" Altaїr was yelling at this point and Malik took a step back. Yelling was maybe a part of their problem, he reckoned. But instead of yelling back as he did way back when they had still been a couple, he only raised his hand in submission and shook his head.

"You know what? Fine. Do you want to be an ungrateful asshole for still being alive after you were dumb enough to not listen to everyone's warnings? Fine. Do you want to scare away your only friends? Fine. You want to dwell on your misery and write those petty stories never achieving anything in life? Fine. Do it. But you will not drag your friends and family down with you." Malik snarled, walking towards the bathroom door. He wanted to leave. He wanted to just leave this flat and never come back here again. Altaїr was right, wasn’t he? He had broken up with him, he thought bitterly as he grabbed the door frame so hard his knuckles turned white. He had scared him away out of their shared flat, out of their home. He had been so bitter and disgusting and angry all the time that he managed to scare his best friend, his partner, his lover away for good and with him the only person who always stayed at his side for as long as Malik could remember. They always yelled at each other. They were both so incredibly stubborn and hot headed, but it had never been like it was back then when he broke up with that man who had stayed with him, trying to work through the losses with him.

He had never been an aggressive man. He had never hit anyone in his life when it was not in combat. But the monster, the aggressor Altaїr had described in this story, existed and Malik knew this. He had felt its presence back then and maybe that was what finally ended things, the last straw to end their relationship in such a chaos and disaster.

"Leave already." Altaїr hissed behind his back, but his voice sounded hollow and strained and Malik finally let go of the doorframe. He disregarded the wheelchair near the bathroom door, grabbed the pile of envelopes lying on the dirty coffee table and left the flat slamming the door shut behind him. But he did not rush out of the building instead he just rested his back against the door and tried to force his body to take deep and even breaths again. Was Altaїr able to get back in his wheelchair like this? He had been able to get into the tub, hadn’t he? But what if he would not get back into his chair? Shouldn’t he get back into the flat and see if he was alright? He clenched his fist around the envelopes in his hand, listening to the sounds coming from within the flat. For a while nothing happened, then another _thump_ from somewhere within the flat, followed by the _pat-pat-patting_ of Altaїr's hands on the floorboards as he heard before. Then there was a small noise, something heavy hitting against a wall or something along that lines. Through the paper-thin walls, he heard Altaїr curse under his breath, again the small noise of something hitting against the wall and finally the little screech of the wheels of the wheelchair getting in motion again.

There was a door being opened at the end of the hallway and an elderly woman peeking out and in his direction. Malik shortly glanced at her before he brushed the back of his hand over his face and walked towards the elevator.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really the best chapter. I am sick XD But I wanted to finish this chapter x___X my brian is mush...

The sun tried its best to creep through his curtains when the next day hit, but instead of getting up, Altaїr just turned around in his bed and buried his face in one of his various pillows. He did not want to face the day. He did not want to get into his wheelchair again and do nothing all day long - not because there were no things he wanted to do, but because there was nothing he _could_ do. And what was he supposed to do anyway? He could not work anymore, he could not go outside anymore, he could not do what he had loved the most anymore. He missed running around the city, enjoying the possibilities this concrete wasteland had to offer for an aspiring parkour-athlete such as him. He would never fly again. He would never get behind the control of a plane again. He would never experience the rush of adrenaline anymore when he would leave the ground far, far behind himself and dive into the blue of the sky high above. He could as well have died. Maybe this was his punishment for every wrong he had committed in his life so far.

His doorbell rang loud and shrill, but Altaїr, with a groan, just pulled the blanket over his head. He was not ready to face anything or anyone except his blanket. Really. Other than this, whoever it was who wanted his attention, would be gone again until he would have managed to get in his stupid ass chair and to the door. If it was the postman, he could just as well dump his shit in front of his door as he was used to by now. He did not care. He did not care at all.

The doorbell rang again and Altaїr turned onto his stomach before he moaned as the doorbell rang yet another time and again and again without mercy for his aching head. Headaches, yes, that was only yet another thing making his life exceptional harder since the accident. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out everything around him, trying to ignore the world that was trying to force him to participate in and finally the ringing of the bell stopped after what felt like an eternity. There was nothing for a moment, sweet, sweet nothing. Only the buzzing void inside of his head filling his ears and his mind like cotton candy.

Oh, blissful quietude. One might argue he got lots of blissful quietude in his life lately, maybe even more than one person alone could handle, but to Altaїr this was indeed a precious good. He much rather laid in his bed without anyone to bother him, than being faced with Maria's always oh so very worried face or this pity in her eyes when she looked at him during her visits. He did not even quite know when she visited him last. Not that it would matter anyway really.

Somewhere in the world outside of his head, he heard the dull sound of a door being opened and a sluggish thought crept up to the surface of his being. _Is that my door or the neighbor coming back home from his night shift?_ And: _Does it matter?_ He was about to doze off again as his blanket got ripped away from him with a sudden jolt. He wanted to push himself up in reflex as he would have done before, but he could not and a part of him did not want to anyway. "Get up." Malik's dark voice roared behind him, but when Altaїr did not move to turn around, the man standing beside his bed grabbed his right shoulder and forced him to with a strength one would maybe not expect from a one-armed cripple, as Altaїr bitterly thought as he was faced with his ex lover's face hovering over him like the perfect personification of a storm cloud. He had always loved this face, even back when they had been children still. He would always steal Malik's favorite toys in kindergarten just to see this angry face.

"I'm sorry, but I believe that this is not possible." Altaїr growled unflinchingly, his body twisted quite uncomfortable after Malik had forced half of his body onto its side, while the other half was lying stubbornly flat on the mattress. Malik was wearing his prosthesis this time under his long sleeved shirt, though Altaїr had no clue why. It did not change anything, right? It was just camouflage for other people and Altaїr did not like it. Malik, on the other hand, had wanted this prosthesis so badly right after his amputation and he had not done anything to prevent it, for it was Malik's decision. A part of him understood why Malik wanted this plastic arm. He understood why he wanted to look normal at least from a distance, but he had never liked it still. To him, this fake arm had proven to be a great new difficulty in their life as they were still a couple. It was useless. It could not do anything. It was in the way mostly. Malik needed to drag it to move it or otherwise, it would just hang uselessly at his side, so why bother?

"It is and you will get up immediately." Malik hissed and pulled at his right arm to drag Altaїr closer towards the edge of the bed. The door frame was too narrow to maneuver his chair through it, so the only room where he could use it really was his living space, but Altaїr could already see the bloody thing waiting for him in the door to said room, mocking him and promising him to bump against every surface and piece of furniture that was in its path. He had not heard Malik moving it. He had not heard Malik entering the flat, not really at least. He probably should have demanded the key from Malik yesterday. Growling in anger he ripped his own arm back and hit Malik underneath his chin in the process with his fingers. It was more of a light brush, not nearly as hard as his accidental kicks or punches in the past and Malik did not even flinch. It was true; he should be stronger in build. He should be stronger in mind. He was a soldier. He was a pilot. And now he felt like a useless lump lying around and being a burden for everyone around him.

"Do I need to kick you out again?" Altaїr growled, supporting his upper body on his elbows digging into the mattress now.

"Oh, I would love to see that. Get your ass in that chair now; we have a lot of work to do today."

"No thank you, I'm retired." He was twenty-six years old and he could not work in his job anymore. He was twenty-six years old and he had retired already. He was twenty-six years old and was dependent on his retirement rent and the payments he got from his insurances. It was ridiculous. Why did those people even bother getting him out of that plane? Why not leaving him inside to burn to a crisp? What use did he have now for the world or for anyone?

"Yeah, me too, so we do what all retired people do nowadays, we'll visit your doctor and have a nice day sitting in waiting rooms and drinking coffee. Maybe we even start knitting, though I think I might need help with the needles then. Clearly, we should find a hobby that’s more appropriate for us now that we are on the holding track." Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. Under different circumstances, he would have loved to hear Malik making joked about his own disability finally. When they broke up, Malik had only been angry.

It was a fight he could only lose and that Altaїr knew perfectly well, but it did not stop him from trying anyway, because he simply was none for giving up so quickly, especially not in the face of the man he had once held closest to his heart. Malik and he had grown up together in times when they had still been something exotic in the very German and modest neighborhood they had been brought up in by their parents. In their sweet little neighborhood, they had been the only two Arabic families. They had met in kindergarten for the first time and since then Malik had always been the one person pushing him to his limits, challenging him to overcome those limits and grow beyond what his imagination deemed possible. Apparently, he still had this effect on Altaїr, as he needed to accept while he tried to get rid of the man, only to find himself in his wheelchair yet again after a seemingly senseless struggle.

"We need to shave this beard off." Malik muttered, though more to himself as he grabbed the plastic bags he had apparently brought with him. "And we need to cut your hair too, but since I know how you are with your hair, I won't do it myself don’t worry. Still, you cannot leave the house like this; you look like a fucking terrorist. People will think you have a bomb in your wheelie." Altaїr only clenched his jaw while he watched Malik tipping over one of the plastic bags he had just picked up and poured its contents onto Altaїr's dining table. Malik had always hated it when Altaїr would do something like this after they went shopping. He was the most orderly and tidy guy Altaїr had ever known, but due to his apparent handicap, it appeared as if Malik simply did not give a fuck anymore. Altaїr saw a cosmetic mirror women like to use on their desks, a cheap one from a local drugstore which Malik set up on the dining table. He spotted a brand new razor with brand new blades. Even shaving cream Malik had bought for him - apparently remembering Altaїr's favorite smell too. Altaїr could not help but watch in surprise as Malik started rummaging his flat again, searching in his cabinets for something before he apparently deemed a glass salad bowl the appropriate tool and filled it with water to set it up beside the mirror on the table too.

Malik only vanished when he moved into the bathroom to grab a pair of small scissors and a towel to put them on the table as well before he grabbed the handles of Altaїr's _wheelie_ and maneuvered his ex-boyfriend to the table.

"You can't be serious." Altaїr growled, but this time he did not grab the wheels or tried to punch him or put on a fight of any sorts. He simply did not feel the inner strength to do so, maybe because he already knew Malik would be victorious in the end so he might as well just _roll with it_. But he would certainly not help this asshole.

"Well, I am. I don’t want to be seen with a possible hobo-terrorist with people either fearing to be bombed by your wheelie or thinking you will beg them for money for alcohol." Malik then hummed as he placed Altaїr in front of the mirror. Well, he really looked horrible, that at least he need to agree on with Malik. His beard had grown out of control completely and looked even worse than he had described in his story. Well, he had not really seen his face for a while now, for he was not able to look in the mirror in his bathroom all too easily because it was hanging too high for him and his windows were too dirty to see once reflection in the glass no matter how romantic it would have been in a novel for the beast to have an accidental look at his own disfigured face in the dusty glass of a window. "If you help me, it will be over more quickly." Malik tried to bribe him as he pulled a chair next to Altaїr and his wheelchair and sat down at the table so close to Altaїr that he could feel the heat radiating from Malik's body, but Altaїr refused to even do as much as looking at him.

With a sigh Malik began to work, first cutting the longer parts of the beard off with the little scissors as best he could with just one hand, then going over to take the shaving cream and the razor.

"Why should I visit my doctor anyway?" Altaїr finally asked, daring a glance out of the corner of his eyes at Malik sitting by his right-hand side. Malik's eyes were squinted in concentration as he was dragging the blade over his skin, careful not to cut or hurt him in any way. It was such an intimate situation that it was almost uncomfortable. Only once before Malik had needed to shave his face and that only because he had broken both his arms by being an idiot. Back then he had made fun of it and suffered a few cuts because of it, but now they weren't a couple anymore and suddenly this was uncomfortable and humiliating. He still had both his hands and he could shave, but since he was just a pouting three-year-old, he let Malik do the work.

"Because he wrote you a letter." Malik answered quietly. His voice was always quiet and calm when he needed to concentrate on something.

"I know."

"You didn’t read it." Malik sighed. "He wants to talk to you about your rehab plan."

"What rehab?"

"For your broken nails." Malik sighed. "They look horrible. For your injuries, Altaїr. Stop playing dumb, we both know you are far from being stupid. Although I think you might have lost a few of your _little gray cells_ by the accident, otherwise you would have opened your mail."

"You are aware that opening someone's mail is considered a crime in this country for which I could get you in serious trouble, yes?" He tried not to move his mouth too much for he really did not feel the need for another scar in his face. Two should suffice to give him this badass kind of look. A badass in a wheelchair. Hell.

"I am shaving your ugly face and I cleaned your flat at least a bit yesterday, so I reckon, I earned the right to indulge in your privacy like this. Other than this I saw you naked quite a few times in my life already, sometimes willingly, sometimes not so much." One last time Malik cleaned the razor in the salad bowl before dragging it over his jaw again. The water was dirty, full with hair and stubble and shaving cream floating on top. It looked quite disgusting actually and Altaїr would admit under different circumstances that he felt a lot cleaner and better without that jungle growing out of his face. A bit he was in awe, though. The old Malik would have never diverted a precious glass salad bowl (which Altaїr never used anyway) from its intended use like this. Altaїr had never even been allowed to drink coffee out of a _tea cup_ \- whatever a tea cup was.

"I'm curious what a judge may think about this. Maybe we should ask one."

"Are you threatening me with a phone call from Mr. Kenway?" Malik leaned back in his chair, putting the razor aside and then grabbing Altaїr's jaw to turn his head as if to admire his work. He seemed satisfied when he granted him a court nod and threw the towel at his face. "Clean yourself up; I'll get rid of this stuff. I want you ready to leave the flat in ten and don’t even try arguing that you can't make it." He picked up the other plastic bag he had brought with him, equipped with the bright label of a fashion store around the corner, and threw the bag with skilled ease onto the couch. Good thing he was right handed. "Brought you something to wear. Your clothes reek and since you don’t look as much as a homeless guy now any longer, you should not smell like one too."

Getting changed was a difficulty Altaїr faced each day so he tried to avoid it as much as possible - as evident by the smell of most of his clothes. He did not have a washing machine in his flat, only downstairs in the basement of the complex to be used by everyone living in this building, but since he wasn’t really able to get down there, he could not use those machines. They were broken most of the times anyway. In the beginning, when he moved into this flat, before the accident, he had tried it a few times only to witness that some of the other tenants thought they had the right to take out someone else's clothes and threw them aside when they wanted to use the machines themselves. Sometimes Maria would take a few of his things with her to get them washed at her house.

"Why didn’t you go with Maria?" Malik finally asked after Altaїr managed to pull himself onto the couch so that he would have an easier time changing into the new clothing items. He did not look at the other man, but he could hear him rummaging in his kitchen, washing up the used items as it seemed.

"Why should I?"

"Because she is your friend. And she wanted to help you. She lives in a big house; you would have had it more comfortable at her place." That at least was a truth no one, no matter how stubborn, could not deny.

Maria had money and she was living in a nice house. She had been brought up by stern but rich parents and her friendship to Altaїr and Malik or even Rauf had always been a nuisance for her parents. Maria was possibly the best friend one could have - for a girl. Altaїr did not answer; instead, he pulled the fresh shirt over his head after he had thrown the old one carelessly to the ground. Malik had not bothered to cut the price tags off, although Altaїr doubted that he wanted to return them to the store or that he cared if Altaїr liked them or not. He was quick to change into the fresh shirt and even the pair of socks Malik bought for him. He was even quite quick to get his pants off his legs, the only problem he faced a moment later was to pull the new jeans up over his ass.

"Here, let me help you." Malik sighed as he walked from the kitchen isle towards the couch only a few feet apart, but Altaїr glared at him, almost forgetting his efforts of somewhat lifting his hips from the couch as best he could with his elbows digging into the cushions. He knew he needed help and after all those years with this man by his side, he should not feel as uncomfortable and silly as he did. Malik had seen him in worse situations! He had seen him peeing his pants when they were in kindergarten and when Altaїr had been too afraid to go to the toilet because Abbas - that asshole - had told him that there was a monster living in the toilet - which also was the story how Malik and he became friends weirdly enough. He had seen him so drunk that he couldn’t even spell his own name. He had seen him at his best and at his worst and yet … he felt uncomfortable and humiliated. More than with soiled pants and sobbing like a little girl even.

Malik only paused for a second, but then raised one brow at his behavior. "We don’t have all day. Let me help. You can pretend as though you don't need my help tomorrow again, but today we do have a tight schedule. We have at least twenty magazines to read while waiting with all those old people and we need to get the best seats in that waiting room so come on now, hurry up, Bashful."

When they arrived at the doctor's office, Altaїr thought it could not get worse than before, but it could apparently. Apparently, it was not enough for him to sit in a wheelchair and be at Malik's mercy when the other man wanted to push him around in that stupid thing. With every fiber of his being he tried to tell the world that he did not want to be here at the doctors at all, but apparently, no one decided to come to his rescue and thus Malik only kept tossing magazines at him to skim through while an old lady looked at them from time to time. To Altaїr it was sometimes weird how cruel other people could be, maybe even without intending to be cruel. He had been raised in this country. He was not born here, alright, but he had been raised here from such an early age on that he could not remember ever being somewhere else but in Germany. Still, people like that old woman stared at him as if he was something like a disease creeping into the country. His documents spoke quite a clear message to the world. He possessed both passports. He was a German citizen, but still, he had his Syrian pass too. Back when he got to the age when he got his pass, he decided to keep them both, although he could have dismissed his Syrian pass entirely. Maybe his life would have been easier if he had done it. It was not like he found some kind of national pride in being at least half Syrian or as if he was parading this pass around, like some Turkish teenagers back then did, refusing to call themselves German although they were born here. It was just a reminder to Altaїr. He had promised his father, when he joined the _Bundeswehr_ , that he would help make everything better in their home country and that he would one day see the place where his family came from. Well, that clearly would never happen now. But no matter how strongly he felt for his home country, he was a German at heart and everyone around him knew that only old people like this woman did not and they kept staring at people like him and Malik no matter how normal it was for them to be here.

"Look at that." Malik tried to pull him out of his thoughts as he pointed at a recipe in the magazine he read. "Sounds good, doesn’t it? Maybe I cook this for you if you brush this frown off your face." When Altaїr looked at his ex, Malik's eyes glistened with this same teasing twinkle as they had when they had been a couple still. He knew that teasing him was the best way to get him to do something and although Altaїr himself knew this too, he still fell for it every god damn time. Not because he could not resist the tease, but because he could not resist the man. He had never been able too. Maybe that was the cause of their downfall.

"I don’t want you to cook me… What even is this?"

"A quiche."

"What on earth is a quiche?"

"It's delicious."

"But what is it?"

"I'll tell you after we're done here. That is of course if you behave."

"Do I have a choice?"

Malik smirked and leaned back in his uncomfortable plastic chair again. The old woman still stared at them and although Malik seemed to have picked up on this, he did not do or say anything to stop it. Well, this was a free country and this woman had the right to stare at them and think her racist bullshit. Would not be the first time Altaїr would hear racist slurs from an old woman in the streets.

"Why are you wearing this thing?" Altaїr finally sighed and threw the magazine, that was resting in his lap at Malik who caught it skillfully with his right hand. He did not need to know about the latest trends in nail art anyway and he guessed make-up from _Lancôme_ or _Mac_ was just wasted on his face. He was a natural beauty.

"What thing?" Malik asked with a sigh as he placed the magazine he had been attacked with on the small table in the middle of the waiting room. They were alone except for the old lady. Ten minutes earlier a young woman had left the room after she had spent half an hour typing away her life on her smartphone.

"That thing." Altaїr replied gesturing towards Malik's prosthesis but did not dare touching it as Malik sat down beside him again. Malik followed his gesture and snorted.

"Because I paid a lot of money for it."

"But you always said you didn’t like it and that you felt uncomfortable with it."

"Still do."

"So then don’t wear it."

Malik rolled his eyes but instead of answering him, he patted Altaїr's right leg. He did not feel it. Well, that was not entirely true. He felt something, but it was dull and strange and he didn’t like the sensation of it.

Dr. da Vinci was not your typical general practitioner. He was a young Italian man who always had a funny little joke about his name on his lips. The fact that his first name was Leonardo apparently forced him to develop a good sense of humor and the ability to laugh at himself. Others, however, tended to first think about what kind of parents would call their son Leonardo when their last name was indeed da Vinci, as rare as it might be. Apparently, they were quite the quirky little family. Dr. da Vinci's surgery was always lively and full of people because the patients trusted the young doctor with the weird name (maybe because of said weird name), but when he was not in his surgery, he was at the local hospital saving lives as he always said with a smirk on his face.

He had not been here for quite a while now and this time Dr. da Vinci's face was worried and maybe even a bit angered when Malik helped him through the door. "Well, well, look who has finally opened his mail." The doctor greeted him with a frown on his freckled face, sitting behind his desk and watching him like a hawk. Frowning did not suit him well. He was more of the happy-go-lucky kind of guy.

"He hasn’t." Malik replied helpfully as he closed the door behind him and then proceeded to move the wheelchair closer to the desk. Altaїr pulled the breaks as he was directly in front of the desk and Malik retreated to the back. "I did."

The doctor sighed but leaned back in his chair as he eyeballed Altaїr carefully. Malik apparently refused to take a seat as if he had suddenly rediscovered a sense of shamefacedness and kept his position near the door as if to show respect for the situation.

"You don’t look well and as I can see you still use this awful thing. I told you to get something more comfortable for your person. Is the last address I got from you still correct?" The doctor finally began, first scrutinizing his wheelchair and then changing the topic almost fast as a lightning bolt.

"Yes." Altaїr said through gritted teeth.

"I'm afraid you need to move then. I know those apartments well and they are not made for wheelchairs, I believe. You should move to a place more fitting for your situation and more comfortable for your needs. There are a lot of apartment buildings in this part of town which were built with the thought of housing disabled people in mind."

"My needs are not any different from those of other people. I'm fine where I am, thank you." He could almost feel how Malik was rolling his eyes behind his back, but he did not care. He hated being called _disabled_. He did not want to be treated any differently than _normal_ people. He did not want to move into a building which had been built with the thought of housing people with special needs in mind! He did not want extra wide doors and low surfaces! He wanted to hop onto the kitchen counter while Malik was cooking dinner again only to tease him and be shooed away with the wooden spoon!

"That is not true and we both know that. So moving it is. The first point was settled. I believe I can trust Mr. Al-Sayf to help you in that regard." Altaїr growled, but behind his back, Malik hummed in agreement. Surely Malik had already looked into that matter. Surely Malik had already made appointments with estate agents to visit flats or houses. And still, Altaїr had no idea why.

"Are we done yet?" Altaїr hissed, narrowing his eyes at the doctor in front of him, but the older male did not even flinch. Of course not, he had probably already experienced worse than him when it came to throwing a temper tantrum in some doctor's office. After all, he was Italian and they were famous for their temper.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad." He was the first doctor who was not stumbling over his name every time he needed to say it. At least for that, he had his respect. "I didn’t invite you here to talk about your living situation - at least not exclusively because of that. I invited you because I wanted to talk to you about your rehabilitation."

"What rehabilitation? I'm paralyzed. That’s it. End of story. There is nothing to rehabilitate." Altaїr snarled and if he would be still able to use his damned legs he would have jumped up now to storm out of the room, but since Malik was leaning at the door and since he was not so very skilled or fast in maneuvering his wheelchair, he was pretty much a captive of Dr. da Vinci. Maybe other people would react differently to this situation, but to Altaїr even talking about it made him cringe. He did not want to talk about it. He did not want to hear about the possibilities any longer. He had already heard all of this right after the accident and still, he was sitting in this chair! Nothing would give him back the feeling in his legs. Nothing could give him back the control he had lost. He did not want to be strapped onto a machine to help him walk on some stupid treadmill like an idiot. It was no use anyway! He was done.

"There are techniques and exercises that you must do. I'm not saying that you will ever walk again and anyone who promises you that is a quacksalver. But for your health, it is necessary that you go to rehab to exercise. You will learn to handle your situation better there and to handle your body." The blonde doctor leaned forward to rest his chin on the tips of his fingers after he had made a tent out of them. A few strands of his light hair were framing his face and in the dim light of his office, his blue eyes glistened at him in all seriousness the young man had to offer. "You are not dead, Altaїr. So, I reckon, it would be wise if you would learn how to make the best of your life."

 


	7. Chapter 7

It was always noisy in the little café in the center of the small neighborhood. The people living in this neighborhood prided themselves on the district they lived in greatly, although no one else recognized it as its own district. Still, living in the smaller neighborhood of Heimersdorf was differently than living in the bigger district of Chorweiler, to which their neighborhood officially belonged to. The people were different here in this part of town than those that were living not even one kilometer away. Sometimes it felt like living in a village, which felt quite fitting for the name of their neighborhood, Malik guessed. But whatever other people might think about their neighborhood, the people living in Heimersdorf knew that it was beautiful and that its history was older than those of the neighboring districts.

When he had been little, the center of said _village_ \- as the people who lived here liked to call their neighborhood - had been a lot quieter, with just a few always busy shops which would close every day at twelve and open up again at fifteen o'clock to closing time at eighteen o'clock. It was a quiet place still, but at least people now had a few more spots to frequent, just like this café.

Malik knew that it had always been the dream of Umar Ibn-La'Ahad to one day own his very own café and not just work in one for the rest of his life. The _Café Mocha_ was since its opening a place no one wanted to miss again. For over ten years things were looking great for the café and the owner, and Malik fondly remembered the summers when he and Altaїr had been working in the café during their holidays from school. Those had been easier times and although Altaїr had often argued with his father about his future and his career plans, they had been a sworn team and to now surprise really, after all, it had been only them after Altaїr's mother had died so early.

"So, son in law, how's my boy?" Umar smirked as he leaned on the counter, while his employees were busy like bees in the background serving coffee, cakes and ice cream to the hungry and thirsty customers. Most of them were old ladies and elderly gentlemen because they and their dogs were the core population of the _village_. Malik slumped down on one of the barstools with a soft sigh, but a smirk pulling on his lips as well. He always liked Umar and Altaїr's father had never been weird around him after Altaїr came forward to him all those years ago, about him and Malik dating. Umar had not taken the news well at first back then, disregarded it as a stupid phase every teenager needed to go through, he even had been angry with his son, but then he had calmed down - unlike Malik's dad. Umar was a man who had seen horrible things in his life and apparently he valued the luck of his only child more than keeping up appearances or his faith.

"You are aware that Altaїr and I are no couples anymore, right?" Malik huffed and laid his right arm on the counter. It did not take long until one of the waitresses placed a cup of black coffee in front of him before she disappeared with flushed cheeks to serve another customer. The girl was new to the café, a student as far as he knew, and apparently, she did not know about Malik and the son of her boss yet – not that there was anything to know really. Well, Malik would not tell her, if that meant he needed to shout at the other waiters and waitresses again for his coffee. It was much more comfortable not having to say anything to get what he wanted.

Umar just waved at him dismissively. "I am aware." He shrugged. Umar, after he first came to terms with the _situation_ , had from then on always treated Malik like his own son. Malik's father was his best friend, so their relationship had always been close and Malik had always been a welcome guest in their house, but after Malik and Altaїr had started dating, Umar had apparently decided on treating Malik more like his own son too, not thinking of his son being gay as a shame for his family, but thinking of it as if he had just been gifted with another son to care for. Umar was a very honest man, a very decent and honorable man and he always tried to see the best in maybe uncomfortable situations. "That does not mean I need to accept it, right? So, how is he? Haven't seen him for a while now."

 _Yes_ , Malik thought, _so I've heard_. A part of him was angry that Umar had not gone to see his son for a few weeks now. A part of him could not understand why he didn't, after all, they were quite close and he knew that Umar loved his only son dearly and that he worried greatly for Altaїr too. Sure, Umar was always quite busy with his café, but not so busy that he could not take an hour or two to visit Altaїr after all, Altaїr was living only a stone's throw away from home! Yes, judging by those facts, one could be angry at Umar, one could maybe ask if Umar was a good father, but Malik knew Altaїr and he knew how his ex was. He could be a stinker if he wanted to be and right now he wanted to be a stinker.

Sometimes Malik fondly remembered the times when Altaїr had been struck with a cold, although back then it had always been a nightmare for everyone involved. He was a soldier, he was a fighter, he was tough and strong, but as soon as he caught a cold he was just a whiny baby and quite a stinker too if he had not been down for cuddles all day long. Now he was not really sick, he was just depressed and he was a stinker.

"I'll pick him up later. We will look at some apartments and houses nearby." Malik answered. He did not want to talk with Umar about the conditions Altaїr lived in because Umar knew these conditions perfectly well. He knew how his son lived and he knew that Altaїr needed help. Malik was sure that Umar even wanted to help his child, but he did not want to force him, just like Maria and Rauf and all of their other friends did not want to force him. They thought, Altaїr might come to them when he would finally understand that he needed their help and they would welcome him with open arms. Malik on the other hand … Well, it was his duty to force him. It always had been and it always would be, because he knew Altaїr and he knew that Altaїr would never ask for help, even if he would one day _wake up_ and understand that he needed the help of others.

"So you are taking care of him now?" Umar sighed, as Malik took a sip from his coffee. He looked like a man ridden deeply with guilt, thinking of himself as a bad father for not being there for his child. Under different circumstances, Malik might have agreed with him on that. But Umar had always been a good father, always been exceptionally proud of his son, even when Altaїr did not follow the path he wanted for him.

"Yes." Malik smirked. "He deserves to be kicked around a bit and since that had always been my job, it's time to do it again. He-"

The sound of the little bell over the door announced another customer, as the large man stepped into the café. "Marḥaba." The man said with a deep, thundering voice and his dark eyes fixed upon Umar. He did not even look at Malik who was sitting in his field of vision too, facing the door from his place at the bar. He did not care for Malik and Malik just gulped down on his coffee and then placed a few coins in Umar's hand, lying on the counter. Umar only shortly shot him a concerned look out of his dark brown eyes. He looked very much alike Altaїr in fact, but a few things clearly set father and son apart too. They shared the same shape of their eyes, the same nose, the same proud chin, but Altaїr's eyes were lighter, just as his skin and his hair. Umar had always said that Altaїr looked just like his mother, accompanied with a look of utter sadness in the eyes of the man. Malik, however … He looked just like his father.

"I must leave now. Altaїr behaves like a baby when I force him to get up and I don’t want to be late to our appointments." Malik explained his sudden leave, but he was sure Umar knew that this was not entirely true, as Malik courtly waved at him and then left the café, brushing shoulders with the dark skinned Arab who had just entered.

 

※※※※※

 

Altaїr refused to open the door as the doorbell rang on this very beautiful, sunny (although that he could only guess, for he could not see the sun through his dirty windows) day. He knew who it was and he knew that this nuisance on the other side of that door was in fact in possession of a key to his apartment. Yesterday he had briefly wondered if he should maybe call a locksmith and have the lock changed, but then he knew that he would not escape Malik Al-Sayf whether he would change the locks or move to another country. Malik had always been such a bugger and so very persistent in his causes. He had always been the best in school, his grades always the top of the class, so much in fact that people thought him to be a genius while the real genius (as Altaїr liked to put it) had slept on the desk next to that eager beaver and hardly ever listened to their teachers. It was not that Malik was not intelligent, oh hell no, Altaїr would never make the mistake and calling him that. Malik was even highly intelligent, but most of all he was ambitious – maybe even overambitious. There had been hardly any day in their shared adolescence with Altaїr only being a few months older (eleven months to be precise, thank you very much), which Malik had not spent on learning during the afternoon hours, even sometimes taking extra classes to further his goals.

Altaїr still remembered those days and how he had bugged his best friend to leave the books and go have fun with him, especially during summer. Maybe it was because Malik's parents were oh so very stern and focused on education. For them, it had been no question that Malik would make his university-entrance diplomas as one of the best of the school if not _the_ best, while in their eyes Altaїr had always been a scapegrace and a sloth. Well, they had not been pleased as it had been Altaїr who had left school as number one on the list of best students with Malik following suit as number two. Altaїr had found great amusement in that fact, but Malik had scowled at him for at least a week and had not even let himself get bribed into forgiveness with kisses or blowjobs. Not that Altaїr would not have tried adamantly.

Sometimes it had seemed to Altaїr as if their paths were bound to always align. Malik had always been at his side, he had even followed him into the army or had it been Altaїr following him? The only time their paths had divided just a bit was when they had chosen their careers, with Altaїr always wanting to fly and Malik being an excellent shot. Yes, he thought, they had been marvelous. They had been a great team and their careers would have been exceptional.

But now he had followed Malik apparently once again for he could not stand being separated from him in any way. When they had been children it had been funny for everyone. Altaїr would hurt his head and Malik would soon follow to hurt his head too. Malik would break his left foot; Altaїr would stumble two hours later and break his right foot. It had always been like that. They had always been sharing injuries or sickness and then they went their separate ways after the accident and Altaїr … Well, maybe this time he had gone a bit too far with following Malik's example…

"You are already up and dressed as I see, I must say, I'm impressed." Malik's voice sounded from the door after the man had waited a few moments out of politeness before he had opened the door himself to enter Altaїr's flat.

It was still dingy and dirty and nothing like their old home. Sometimes he still missed their home and the view they had had from their balcony in the twelfths floor. They had been able to see the cologne cathedral from their balcony even and Altaїr had loved to just sit there and enjoy the fresh air and being up so high or just sitting there in their cozy chairs, enjoying the sunset with a glass of wine or beer.

"Please don’t get too excited, I don’t want a puddle on my floor." Altaїr replied dryly as he slowly turned around his wheelchair to be able to look at the intruder. He really did not want to leave his flat and go look at other houses and apartments. He did not want all this. He did not want to be treated like a disabled person … but he was. He was a disabled person and he hated to accept this. He would never accept this. He would never accept this chair, he needed to sit in or that his legs did not cooperate anymore. He couldn't and he did not want a flat fitting for his special needs. His needs were no more special than those of others, so why should he act like they were? Malik had not moved, hadn’t he? He was just as _disabled_ as he was in the eyes of the _normal population_.

"So you ready for the big tour? I think we will find you a nice flat or house today." Malik sounded cheerful, but he wasn’t really and he could not kid him too. He just wanted to appear cheerful for the sake of it, because he always thought that this was the best way of handling the situation and for the most part Altaїr. Sometimes Malik seemed to think he needed to deal with him like he was a cat or something. Well, maybe he seemed to think he needed to treat him like a kid instead.

"I don’t need a house. I'm fine where I am." Altaїr scowled and crossed his arms in front of his chest like a skulking child. He did not care. Malik had seen him a lot worse than this already in their lives and he knew that Altaїr was a pouting three-year-old most of the time anyway, so why act as if he was not?

"Yes, my lord, I am aware that this palace of yours is a grand place and I wouldn’t want to leave it too if our places were swapped, but you see, my prince, you can't get into your bedroom or your bathroom without needing to crawl on the floor like a peasant. This flat is too small and narrow. And now get your act together and be out of here, we already talked about this and I don’t want to be late!" Malik then finally groaned before he stepped closer and walked around Altaїr to grab the right handle of the wheelchair.

Altaїr could have stopped Malik in his actions. All he had needed to do would have been to grab the left wheel of his wheelchair so that Malik would not have been able to push him. It would have been really easy if he had wanted it and they both knew this when they left the building, but they too knew that Malik would not have let him alone if he had tried anything. He would have nagged and bugged him until he would have given up freely. The faster he would get over with those appointments today, the faster he would be able to go back into his flat and curl into a ball in his bed.

The late April sun was warm, but Altaїr was very well aware of the fact that this hardly meant anything. April, especially in this country, was a wicked month and nobody knew what to expect of it really. A few days ago it had started snowing all of the sudden although there had not been a single snowflake in cologne the entire winter.

"Since when do you have such a big car?" Altaїr asked as Malik stopped and unlocked a snow-white SUV parking directly in front of the apartment complex. It was still early in the day and the streets, though not empty (they never were in this part of town), were a lot quieter with the kids all being in school and most adults being at work, so Malik's car really did not bother anyone around and he was not blocking the very much needed parking spots either. For a moment he thought about their old car, a beautiful black and beige mini - a quite gay car, as Kadar, Malik's brother, had informed them helpfully after they bought it. They had loved their gay car. It had not survived the accident though.

"Since you are sitting in a wheelchair." Malik sighed and opened the passenger's door, which was facing the sidewalk. Oh he always was so very thoughtful. Altaїr however grinded his teeth.

"What does that have to do with me sitting in a wheelchair?" He growled, but Malik only shot him a small glance over the shoulder and did not answer as if it was obvious. Maybe it even was – but not to Altaїr for certain. "Can you even drive with one hand?"

"Did I ever use two anyway?" Malik smirked and helped Altaїr getting closer to the car. Yesterday Malik had not picked him up by car for his doctor was quite close to his apartment anyway and Malik had argued that Altaїr needed the exercise for his arms. In fact, he had not seen Malik drive since the accident and to no surprise really. Surely Malik could think of better things to do than driving a car every again. "You need to help me though. I can't pick you up with one arm."

Altaїr did not care for the places they looked at really. He did look around of course, but … he tried to show his utmost disinterest for the apartments they were shown and while Malik asked all the important questions he did what he was best at and ignored the retail agent and Malik all together. The flats looked ugly. He did not like them. He was shown one or two substitute flats which were already furnished for people with _handicaps_ as the retail agent liked to call it, always confused whom to address with that; the guy in the wheelchair or the guy with just one arm. Malik was not wearing his prosthesis today again, but until now Altaїr had not hinted at Malik not liking the prosthesis as he did yesterday. He simply did not feel like making conversation, not even like bugging Malik.

It was the last place they visited, a bungalow styled house with level flooring and wide doors, that Malik finally said something that made Altaїr stop in confusion. "I like the shower." Malik said to the retail agent as they entered the large bathroom. It was already equipped with a wheelchair compatible toilet, sink and shower, because the last owner had been sitting in a wheelchair too. The shower looked more like a tub, with a glass wall at one side to protect the rest of the bathroom from the water, but with a door to open so one could drive into the _tub_ with a wheelchair. Ridiculous. "I think this place would be perfect. I cannot lift him into the tub every day or help him shower all the time. This would be great for us. I think we might take it."

 _We, us_. What the hell was this all about? Clearly Altaїr would not confront Malik right away about this; instead he started to have a look around for himself, while Malik kept chatting with the retail agent, a plump middle aged woman in a wide dress that did not suit her at all. The house was a nice place with a beautiful little garden and high walls. It was definitely nicer than his current flat, but he clearly could not afford it, even with his retirement payments and the payments from his insurances. Plus, he did not want to live in a house that so clearly spoke of his disadvantages. He did not want a shower were he could drive in with his wheelie. He did not want all this. He did not want to work on his issues and for the most part he did not want Malik to take care of him anymore. He could not stand being around him for long. Yesterday it had been as if nothing had ever happened. Malik had acted as if he had not broken up with him almost a year ago, as if he had not crushed him to pieces and stomped on him in the process. For everyone around him Malik was a nice, easygoing person with great determination, but always there to help others if they needed him. And he was, but Altaїr had seen his cruel side also. He understood his behavior now all the better of course, but still there was no way to apologize for his actions in the past. Malik had been hurt and depressed and sad after the accident and while everyone else pitied him, he had lashed out on Altaїr for everything. Maybe he was not better. He was lashing out on people too, but would he have ever done what Malik did to him?

There was not a single person in the world who he had ever loved more than he had loved Malik and a part of him still did. It was inevitable. A part of him even hoped that Malik did all this now because he too loved him still. It was of course quite pathetic, all of this. There was no way they would get back together and he … would he want this anyway? After everything?

"So you decided to take the house?" Altaїr later asked, as they left the building again. The house was in his old neighborhood. It was not far away from his childhood home and his father's café and while a part of him was glad that it was so close to home and wanted to go see his dad, the bigger part of him felt anxious and panicked because of it. He did not want to be here because being here meant being reminded on the past constantly. He did not want to be reminded on the past and the things he had lost, but he did not want to look ahead and face the future either. He would much rather stay in this momentary condition, this nexus of time where nothing really ever happened.

Malik hummed in agreement after he stepped outside on the sidewalk to him. "Yes, I think it’s a good place for us. I like the house. We can put in most of our old furniture too, but we need a new kitchen."

Finally Altaїr turned towards him in his chair and stared up at him with raised brows. He did not quite care that Malik did not want to hear his opinion about the house or any of the flats they had visited today, what he cared for was the way Malik phrased his decision and how he had talked to the retail agent. "What's this all about, Mal?" He asked, but could not mask the slight growl in his voice even if he had wanted to. "I won't move in with you. We are no couple anymore and I sure as hell won't get back together with you."

"Well, I am not exactly thrilled to move in with you too, you know? You are rude and don’t take care of yourself, but you apparently need a babysitter so you can finally get your act together again and that’s why I'll take up with this shit, whether you like it or not. Don’t worry, if you haven’t noticed, there are too bedrooms."

 

※※※※※

 

"So, you moving in with Malik? Are you guys finally getting back together or what? I told Rauf this would happen, alright. Hell, he owes me big time now." Maria's voice sounded cheerful, but not as it usually would have sounded. This cheerfulness was a mere mask to not anger him again. She was a tough girl, always had been, always would be and yet, since she was pregnant, she seemed more careful especially around Altaїr as if he could hurt her in any way – as if he would ever physically hurt his best friend or her baby. What kind of monster did she thought to face here?

"No, we are not getting back together. He tries to force me into moving in with him in this house." He was not comfortable having people around in his flat and those people weren't comfortable being in his flat most of the times anyway, but he rather stayed here than leaving the flat, as Maria originally proposed. Maria tried her best not to get bothered by the smell inside the flat or the dirt on the windows, although Malik had already cleaned up a lot. He had not really spoken to Malik after their little exchange outside of the house or after Malik had brought him back home and he was grateful that Malik had just gone afterwards and not tried to bother him any more with his stupid ideas.

"Well, I think it’s a good thing for you guys, a new start, you know?"

"I don’t want a new start and I don’t need one either. I'm perfectly fine where I am now." Altaїr hissed and sipped on his coffee. It tasted like mud. He had never managed to figure out this machine tragically, but Maria did not really seem to mind the muddy taste of it, while Altaїr just wanted to throw his cup at the wall.

"Altaїr, really."

"What?"

"You are twenty six years old."

"I am aware of that fact."

"Your life is not over just because you are paralyzed. There are so many other people on the world living without limbs or sitting in a wheelchair or being much more restricted in their lives than you are and every single one of them makes more out of their lives than you do! You just curl up in your bed, sleep all day, write your fucking stories and wait for death!" She sighed, gripping her cup harder with her thin fingers.

"Spare me from those inspirational fucking sob stories! I don’t want to hear of the guy with no legs doing crazy stunts on his skateboard! I don’t want to hear this crap! That is not reality! That is one case in a thousand! _This_ " He hit down his balled fist on his numb right leg. "is reality, Maria! I will never walk again! I will never be independent again! So why bother with a new start? And no, Malik and I do not need a new start! This is over, there is no going back."

"You know he still loves you! And you still love him!" Maria replied adamantly, her cheeks flushed pink and brushed her delicate fingers through her dark hair. "I know that he hurt you, I know that he treated you ill, but he was just as overwhelmed back then as you are now. He lost his arm and he lost his little brother. He was angry at the world and he needed time to heal and now he wants you to heal, now he wants to make up for the things he did to you and he wants you to be happy again."

"He blames me for the crash." Altaїr growled. "And I don’t want him to help me heal. I don’t care if he was angry or depressed. I don’t care. And even if I did care, even if we would get back together, what good would it be?" Maria looked as if she wanted to say something immediately. Of course she knew what he meant by this, but Altaїr interrupted her before she could even start talking. "Please, just leave me alone for now. It was a long day, I want to be alone."

Maria bit down on her bottom lip as she always did when she wanted to say something but forced herself not to. Her eyes were wet, as Altaїr shortly glanced at her with narrowed eyes. He felt empty and sick and he did not want her company and Maria seemed to understand, maybe she was even glad that she could leave again, having done her duty as a friend now. A few weeks ago she would have forced him to be in her presence, but maybe her patience and good will was slowly wearing off. She could not take it anymore. She could not stand the situation anymore; she could not stand him anymore and to now surprise really! He would not be able to stand himself any more too! If he could, he would leave himself behind just like anyone else did. Not even his father tried to visit him anymore. Not even his father called him anymore. Malik was the only one coming to his place, but maybe he found joy in seeing him so low, after all, it was his fault that Malik lost his brother and his arm, right? It was his fault.

Maria left him with a small nod and a kiss to his cheek, while he kept his eyes narrowed on his knees. Suddenly he felt as if he did not know how to speak any longer. He felt overwhelmed and so very small, as Maria left him behind, closing the door shut behind her. He could not blame anyone for not wanting to stay with him anymore. He could not blame his father not wanting to see his failure of a son. His father had always wanted him to join the business; he had never liked him joining the army. He had never liked him flying a plane. He should have listened to his father maybe. Maybe Malik's father had been right from the start. Maybe he was good for nothing.

He felt his chest clench painfully and it never had been harder just to breathe.

Clearly Malik found joy in all of this. He enjoyed seeing him like this. He enjoyed having him at his mercy. He enjoyed treating him like a child. But Altaїr would not let him do this. Before he even knew it he grabbed for his cup again and took a sip, the foul taste burning down in his throat before he finally gave into his mind's demands and threw the cup against the wall. It shattered into millions of pieces and showered down to the ground in a beautiful orchestra of the sound of shattered dreams and the life he could have had.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for your information: Since I am setting this in Germany (yes even in my hometown, yes even in my own neighborhood and yes Umar's café exists, just like the mall and the kindergarten), of course I use the metric system to describe things unlike in my other stories and I go with the German system considering kindergarten. 
> 
> In the nineties (which is when this chapter starts) kindergarten was usually from the age of 4 to 6, at 6 a kid starts elementary in this country. I believe in the late nineties kids started kindergarten sometimes by the age of 3 and in the last ten years kindergartens started to take in babies as well. Just so you are not confused XD We do not have a "pre-school" kind of thing.

Altaїr did not like going to kindergarten. He much rather spent time with his father and he did not even understand why he needed to go to kindergarten now anyway. Everything had been just fine for him! He and his father had left for work every morning with their lunch boxes and he had spent the entire day with his daddy in some café in their neighborhood where his father was working full time to someday have his own café - that was what he always liked to tell his son. So, for the first four years of his life that had been it and it had been good the way it was. He had loved going to work with his father and the people there had been nice too! His father's boss had often given him snacks whenever his father would not notice. Now he was five years old and practically an adult, so he had his own workplace as his father told him to coax him into not throwing a temper tantrum every morning. Kindergarten was nothing like being at the café with his dad. He had been the only child at the café, now he was surrounded by a whole bunch of them. He did not like this. When he wanted attention from any of the kindergarten teachers, he needed to practically screech and then he would be scolded for making such a fuss.

But the other children… Well, they were not any better. He did not like them. They were stupid. They ran around like idiots and their drawing skills were practically non-existent. When they were told to draw a house most of them did not even get the shape right. But there was yet another thing he had noticed: except him there were only three other Arabs in the kindergarten - although he did not quite understand what that meant yet, he had heard the head of the kindergarten tell his father that on his first day and his father had nodded in what seemed to have been some kind of appreciation. There was Rauf, a plump boy with dark curls and already thick brows, Abbas, a mean little ape-sized kid and Malik. Malik was a stinker. Altaїr did not like Malik and he tried to especially emphasize this on that very morning when his father brought him to the kindergarten like he nowadays did every morning (except on the weekends of course).

"Have you even tried talking to Malik yet?" His father smirked when they arrived in front of the building, a small bungalow-like building made of red bricks and a flat roof. It was a catholic kindergarten and Altaїr did not quite understand why he was visiting a catholic kindergarten although his father said that they were Muslim. Well, adults were weird sometimes. The door of the kindergarten was facing to a quadratic courtyard surrounded by a few other buildings all in that same shape and the church towering over the yard like a friendly giant.

"I don’t need to. He is dumb." Altaїr frowned unflinching because of course, he knew the dirty tricks his father liked to play on him from time to time. His father always said, that he could not judge something or someone before he had not tried it out or spoke to the person and for the most part Altaїr thought that this was true - but he was not dumb either and he was aware that his father used this trick mostly to get his son to eat stuff Altaїr did not even want to look at, like spinach.

"Is he?" His father asked with wide eyes and crouched down in front of him, while a woman walked passed them and shortly smiled at his father when she left the kindergarten. Altaїr did not like her either, mostly because she always smiled at his father.

"Yes." Altaїr replied with a dark frown on his face.

"How do you know he is dumb? Is he doing dumb things?"

"Yes." He replied yet again.

"Like what?"

"He drew three chimneys on his house, but that’s wrong. A house only has one if one at all!" Altaїr answered judging the lack of talent this other boy obviously had. Well, he liked things to be drawn as accurate as possible.

"Oh well, maybe he thought of an older house." His father tried with a crooked grin playing on his face, but Altaїr shook his head adamantly. "Well, then don’t talk to him if you don’t like him, but come on now, you have a lot of work to do, pumpkin."

Altaїr felt his cheeks grow hot immediately. He liked the nickname, but he did not like it when his father would call him that out in public. His grandmother had always called him pumpkin, but she was dead now and his father only rarely called him that anymore. For the most part, he called him _eaglet_ and that Altaїr liked even more. "Why can't I go with you? I liked it better at the café." Altaїr tried again pouting. His father was a very calm and relaxed person. He possessed patience for at least ten pouting five-year-old boys, that was why he still smiled at him although he must be tired from this war that occurred every morning since January. Now it was May and the days started to grow hotter. Altaїr knew that his father had a lot to do and was always facing stress at work and in their normal day to day routine. His father could not waste any precious second in the morning for fighting with him about whether he wanted to go to kindergarten or not, still, Altaїr liked to get his point across - maybe even so his father would not be sad if Altaїr would like being here at the kindergarten.

"We talked about that, Altaїr. Come on now, I'll be here in the afternoon to pick you up and then we go get some ice-cream, alright?" His father really liked to play dirty.

But the promise of ice-cream in the afternoon barely let him survive the day being surrounded by all those kids he did not like. Altaїr spent most of the morning drawing while the other kids around him squabbled and ran around or were outside playing. The only other kid sitting at the table going about their business in making a figure out of modeling clay was Malik. Altaїr watched him out of the corner of his eyes from time to time while Malik seemed to try his best with this figure, but of course, Altaїr informed him very helpfully that "it looks ugly" at some point, which only got him a dark glare from Malik in return. Malik was only four. He was almost a whole year younger than Altaїr and such Altaїr was obviously superior to him.

Malik seemed to see it quite differently, though.

After they had lunch and needed to have a short nap (which to Altaїr was always like an insult to his intelligence and age, although he had no problem whatsoever to have his little nap at home), they were practically forced to play hide and seek in the backyard. Altaїr did not manage to find joy in this game - maybe because he had no friends in the group of kids he was forced to play in. At least he was not the one who needed to seek this time and at least he was extremely talented in hiding. As soon as Rauf, the plump little boy with the squishy red cheeks and the dark skin, started counting down from ten (he could not count any further yet, that pathetic fool), Altaїr started running on his short legs to the nearest bush. It was his favorite hiding spot because most of the other kids did not like to use it in the case of deadly spiders.

Altaїr had no problem with potential deadly spiders. He thought, as long as he would not do anything to them, they had no reason to do anything to him. So he ran for the bush, not caring for the other kids and then jumped right at it.

"Ouch!" Altaїr landed on something … hard … something a bit chubby too … something … angry. "That’s my hiding spot! Go away!" Malik hissed as Altaїr blinked at him wide-eyed and confused.

"No it's not!" - Came the immediate response from the older (and taller) boy and he instinctively pinched Malik's side to get him to go away. He did not. Malik was persistent like a bug. "It's my spot!"

"I was here first!" Malik argued back and though granted that this was indeed true, it did not count in Altaїr's little world. "But I'm older than you!" Because that clearly always was the best argument no matter what a fight might be about. Being older as someone else always came with a certain set of privileges, that was what his older cousin Desmond told him every time he stole a cookie out of Altaїr's little hands, trying to starve him.

"Yeah? But I'm here longer than you, so go away already!" Malik growled shoving at his shoulder and taking him by surprise with this attack - so much in fact that Altaїr lost his balance and slumped onto his bum. His father would not be joyous to see dirt on his jeans! This called for revenge truly.

His father was not happy when he later picked up his five-year-old son and got pulled to the sidelines by Altaїr's kindergarten teacher. Altaїr just pouted, sitting on one of the small benches to put on his shoes again. His cheeks were still dirty and scratched, there were still leaves tangled in his brown hair. His father shot him a small sideways glance and although Altaїr could feel the disappointment rushing through his father while his teacher told him about the chaos that had ensued throughout the afternoon, he tried to look as unfettered as possible, as if he had done nothing wrong. Well, it had not been his original goal to make Rauf cry.

He had wanted Malik to cry.

Instead, Malik sat at least two meters away from him on another small bench putting on his shoes, showing off how he already knew how to tie his shoelaces himself, while Altaїr sat and waited for his father to help him. Malik looked disheveled, to say the least, his black hair was tousled and tangled with crumbs of dirt and little twigs, his face just as dirty as Altaїr's, but still Malik tried to act as though he had won their battle.

His father crouched down in front of him to tie his shoelaces under the disapproving looks of the teacher. He would of course not make a scene in front of the other kids. "You good to go, pal?" His father hummed after he was finished with his task and Altaїr just nodded. Malik and he were the last two kids here. Rauf had been picked up a bit earlier, still bawling his eyes out, by his mother, a rather round, friendly looking woman.

Altaїr nodded and then hopped down from the small bench, grabbing his dad's hand - not because he needed his dad's hand of course, but because he felt like his dad would get lost on the way home otherwise. They were just about to leave when the door opened again and he could hear Malik hopping down from the bench behind them, mumbling something along the lines of _"about time"_ , when a tall man entered the kindergarten.

His father paused and stared, so it was on Altaїr to pull at his father's hand. "Daaaad, come on." Altaїr moaned, but when he looked at his father, his brown eyes were focused on the man who had just entered. He was bulky and tall (taller than his father), with dark skin and almost black eyes. His hair was a mess of tousled black curls and a dark beard was making his face look even more frightening than his scowl ever could. Altaїr felt himself flinching back and slowly retreating behind his father instead. He was of course not afraid of that man. He only took precautions. Malik, however, seemed not the least intimidated by the angry-looking Arab, instead, he made himself taller as he stopped right in front of the man and put his hands on his hips with an accusatory stare. "You are late." Malik scolded the man, but before he could reply anything, his father interrupted.

"Faheem. Is that you? Faheem Al-Sayf?" Malik seemed annoyed to say the least, that he still could not go and Altaїr could feel his pain. He too wanted to go home and was annoyed by the situation, especially because like this he surely would miss the first half of the new Simpsons episode. The strange and dangerously looking man lifted his gaze from Malik in front of him to look at Altaїr's father and suddenly his whole face lit up.

"Umar!" The main exclaimed with a deep, booming voice and the little wrinkles around his eyes made him look like a whole other person. "What a small place the world is!" He laughed and stepped closer. Altaїr watched in awe as the two men hugged like big brown bears and he could not help but exchange a confused look with his arch nemesis Malik. When they broke apart, the man's gaze fell upon Altaїr and he did his best not to shrink away, instead, he pushed his chin forward a bit more. If the man wanted to fight him, he would not shy away! "Is this your son? Is this Altaїr?" The man then asked and his father laughed.

"Yes! I didn’t know you were living here too! What a coincidence! Is this your son?" His father asked, gesturing towards Malik who apparently had already taken to the full extent of the horror of this situation. Their fathers were friends. They liked each other. They would want to meet more often now. Altaїr was doomed.

"Yes, that is Malik." Faheem boomed and ruffled through Malik's dark hair, which left his boy frowning and trying to tidy up his black tuft again - no matter that it had been unruly before.

"I have never seen you here before." His father smirked and the other man just grinned.

"My wife picks him up usually, but she is not well today." He informed Altaїr's dad with a shrug. Malik seemed not happy that his father was the one picking him up today.

"I hope nothing too serious."

"No, she is just pregnant." Faheem laughed and after that statement, Altaїr knew that he would never get home as long as their fathers would keep on babbling. He might as well go back to the nap room and sleep here. At least, Altaїr thought to look at his small backpack his father held in one hand, at least he got his teddy with him.

 

※※※※※

 

"You look as if you just had a religious epiphany or something along those lines." Malik's voice hovered around him in the solitude of his living room. Of course, he had heard him walking inside his flat as if it was his own, but he had not turned around or even did as much as look at him. By now, after Malik had invaded his home day in and day out, he did not give it as much attention anymore, although a part of him thought it to be odd. When they had been teens Altaїr had always been the one intruding in Malik's home, often climbing through his bedroom window so his parents would not know that he was there. "Did you finally come back to your senses? Or are you keep on going to behave like a petulant three-year-old? Not that I would not know how to handle you of course in that kind of state."

"I just remembered what a crybaby Rauf used to be." Altaїr hummed as he slowly put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He had not written anything at all anyway. He had not talked to Malik after they split up yesterday. It was not yet noon by now and a part of him had already hoped the bastard would not come back at all today. But of course, he was Malik Al-Sayf. He was the most persistent guy in the world.

"He was, but mostly not without reason and mostly because _you_ made him cry." Malik reminded him with a cocked eyebrow and a crooked smirk. Well, Altaїr could not even deny this as truth for certain, so he just kept his mouth shut, as he slowly turned around his wheelchair, watching as Malik put down some folded empty cartons and leaned them against the wall next to his kitchen aisle.

"So why are you here today?" Altaїr huffed crossing his arms so that Malik could feel the intensity of his annoyance. "You are not going to start packing my stuff right now, are you?"

Malik laughed dryly at this. "No, I'm not, what do you think of me really?" He answered and his dark eyes were for a moment taking in Altaїr's appearance fully as it seemed. Altaїr refused to relax in his chair when Malik stared at him like this, but just as he thought he could believe Malik, he continued. "Maria is. Really, as if I would know how to properly pack moving boxes, you have seen how I did it last time when we moved in together, so no, unless you want to have all your dishes broken, let Maria do it. She knows how. She is a woman."

"Well, that is kind of sexist." Maria's voice chirped from the doorway and it was only then that Altaїr realized that Malik had not closed the door behind him. Surely Malik had walked up the stairs while she had taken the elevator or something like this. Malik liked to act as if he was in good shape and able to run up twelfth floors within a few seconds. And they called _him_ arrogant…

"No, it's not, it's in your genes." Malik grinned. "Especially now that you are going to be a mom. Moms know this stuff."

"You were always the biggest mum." Maria replied with a huff, but could not hide her grin as she looked at Malik before she turned to Altaїr and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as she mostly did – but never with Malik, because he, Altaїr, was her favorite best gay friend. It was either that or Malik was right and she saw him more as her little baby brother. "After all it was you who always took care of everything, right? Making sure we would eat during the day, that we would drink enough and of course that we would have done our homework."

"I just didn’t want you to fail." Malik smirked, but of course, Maria was right and they all knew this. Malik had always been their mother hen during school. Weird. It was weird being with them now. Being alone with one of them was kind of okay, but being with one of his friends _and_ Malik was weird. Of course, he had never expected Rauf and Maria or their other mutual friends to choose a side because that simply was ridiculous, but having them act as if nothing had changed although everything had changed was oh so very strange to him now. He did not want to be reminded of their youth or how easy everything had been back then. He did not want them to talk about old times and laugh while he sat here and all he could think about was that he and Malik were not together anymore and that nothing was as it had been anymore. They were missing a person, they were missing the bond they always had as a group just because of their break-up and the loss they had all suffered. It did not feel right this situation here but he had no means of escaping it either.

"So I hope you are ready now." Malik turned to Altaїr again, before he walked to the door and grabbed his sneakers from the ground where Altaїr had left them the previous day. For a short moment a part of him was horrified by the prospect of Malik crouching in front of him to put on Altaїr's shoes for him – but gladly he did not. Malik just bridged the distance and handed him his shoes so that Altaїr could put them on himself.

It was not as easy as it used to be of course, but he could lean down enough to do it, although he always felt a bit light headed when he did. "Ready for what?" He snarled while tying his shoelaces. Maria had already begun emptying his cabinets to busy herself and surely so he would not feel watched. He appreciated this. Maria always tried her best to act as if he was not sitting in a wheelchair as if everything was just normal. Rauf, however, looked always as if he was at a funeral. He still was a crybaby.

"Well, first we go to the hairdresser's taming this mane of yours finally, then we go shopping." Malik announced and under different circumstances, Altaїr might have been eager to follow the plan.

But instead, he replied: "I do have plenty of clothes."

"That’s why we won't go buy anymore, you hoarder. We will go shopping for a new wheelchair."

 

※※※※※

 

Rauf was crying again. He was thirteen years old but he was still crying loudly like a toddler whenever the time seemed right. It was not his fault, though! Surely this time Altaїr had not done something wrong! Well, maybe he should have aimed the basketball better.

"It was not my intention to hit his face!" Altaїr defended himself immediately as he felt Malik's dark scowl on his back before the other boy could even do as much as speak, while around them other boys were running around as if nothing happened, their sneakers squeaking loudly on the linoleum of the gym.

"You were not paying attention." Malik argued back right away before he crouched down next to Rauf who sat on the sidelines, leaning against a wall, still sniffling violently.

"Yes, I was!"

"No, you weren't!"

"Yeah-uh!"

"Nuh-uh! You were trying to impress Maria!" Malik shot back annoyed, as he tried to force Rauf to take his hands from his face. It was red and his nose was bloody and yes, well maybe Altaїr had not focused on the game as much as he should have.

"I wasn’t!" He frowned and crossed his arms while the game was still going on without the three Arabs on the sidelines.

"You were!"

"Why should I try to impress her? She's annoying!" Because he was fourteen years old and most girls to him were annoying. Especially though Maria Thorpe with her stupid British accent and her stupid rich parents or her stupid stories of how awesome Britain was. If it was so great why hadn’t they stayed there in the first place?

"Because you like her." Malik growled and rolled his dark brown eyes behind his thick glasses. Altaїr was positive that Malik's face someday would get stuck in such an expression for sure! At least that was what his father had once warned Malik about when he had spent the night (which was a common occurrence anyway). Altaїr felt his cheeks grow hot immediately because of that insolent comment from his best friend and since he was only fourteen years old he was quick to deny the claim.

"I don’t like her! She is so annoying!" He growled and threw a glance over his shoulder. Maria was part of the other team and seemed to ignore them boys at the sidelines while she nonchalantly dunked the basketball to score a point. "She is so pretentious!"

 

※※※※※

 

Going out was still a frightening and absolutely uncomfortable experience to Altaїr. It was necessary of course and he knew that he could not live the life of an hermit for all eternity and at least needed to sometimes go out to get rid of his trash or get something to eat - because clearly he could not solely depend on his very few remaining friends all the time, especially not as soon as Maria would pop out her baby in a few months. Still, although he knew that it was indeed necessary from time to time to leave the house, he tried to keep it to a minimum as best he could - let alone going someplace like a hairdresser's. No matter what he did or where he went, every time he did go out, he thought that he was stared at constantly as if he was just some kind of horrible abomination. He was aware that most people surely did not really care that he sat in a wheelchair and that most people surely did not even notice as much as they should, but in his mind he was constantly stared at, even now, even sitting at the hairdresser's where everyone around him was sitting down too. Surely no one just walking in would notice him sitting in a wheelchair thanks to the cape being draped over him and the chair, but he felt as if he was wearing a sign shouting _cripple_ at the world.

He wondered if Malik sometimes felt like this too. He could ask him. He could talk to him about all of this, maybe understand where Malik had been coming from back when their personal relationship hell had started to unfold. He could talk to him about this, set his own mind, get his own shit together, but he would not. He could not. He did not want to. He did not know how.

"You look ten years younger." Malik commented quietly, as he brushed his fingers through Altaїr's short hair as if it meant nothing, a gesture maybe even born out of the old familiarity between them. He felt as if he had lost a few kilos worth of hair although it had not ben _that_ long – although long enough to curl at its ends. Now it was still long enough to be styled properly, the sides of his head slightly shaven just enough to give him the look he liked.

"And you look twice as old." Altaїr huffed. He was glad to leave the place again. He had never been the kind of guy who had really liked to spend time at places like this one. When he thought back … It had been oh so nice at home, hadn’t it? Malik had cut his hair whenever he had deemed it necessary and he had cut Malik's hair, often threatening him with the various dyes Altaїr had enjoyed to put in his hair, angering Malik's dad whenever they met, enforcing the man's perception of Altaїr as the faggot who had stolen his oldest son away and tempting him to be a sinner. Maybe he was going to dye his hair gray.

"So why do I need a new wheelchair?" He found himself asking while they were _wandering_ through the mall in which the hairdresser's shop was. To Malik's luck they even had a medical supply store inside the mall and lately, it even got extended after years of being just a small shop only selling things for old people. "Mine in perfectly fine." He had always hated medical supply stores really, for they reminded him on his granny. She had been quite fine really, but sick and she could not walk in the end and … he just hated those stores, hated the supplies they sold there and the feeling he got when he was at such a place.

"It is and you will keep this one too of course, but I thought you would like something sportier more, something slimmer so you will be able to navigate it more easily." Malik replied walking beside him towards the elevator which was only a few meters away from the hairdresser's. As teens they had often hung around this mall, loafing around one of the fast food parlors or wandering through the stores.

"How can a wheelchair be sporty at all?" Altaїr frowned as they got in the elevator so they could get up to the first floor where the medical supply shop was located. It was still early in the day and gladly the mall was quiet and not so very full of shoppers. Moving his wheelchair was exhausting and made his hands hurt, but of course, Malik could not push him with just one hand. He would just turn in circles and he was already pathetic enough, wasn’t he?

"You'll see. I promise you will like it."

He did not like it. He did not like it at all. Going shopping for a new wheelchair was deeply humiliating to him. As he entered the shop with Malik by his side he felt oddly small and weak. He did not like seeing the different types of wheelchairs standing around ready to be tested. He absolutely hated seeing all this and knowing that this would be his future, that this was how the rest of his life would look like. He would never find love again for sure, for who wanted to bang someone who could not feel anything from the waist down? Who would want to date a cripple like him? But this was not the worst. He could live without love and a serious relationship. But he could not live knowing that everyone else around him was marching onwards, living their lives as if nothing had happened, forever doomed to spent the rest of his life in this hell. Maybe this really was his punishment for what had happened to Malik and his little brother.

While Malik was talking to the employee of the shop he felt his chest burn and sting, felt his ribcage tighten around his lungs. He tried to listen to their conversation while they acted as if he wasn’t really there at all. He tried to listen as the woman explained the different wheelchair types to him and he was horrified seeing them face to face, knowing that he would never be able to escape those things ever again.

"I think you should take this one right here." Malik said out of the blue ripping him out of the thick cloud of misery around him – or at least he tried to as he put down his hand on Altaїr's shoulder as if he had finally noticed that his former best friend had just zoned out.

"I think you should shut up." Altaїr replied but even though he tried to let his voice sound venomous and threating, he was aware that it sounded broken and hoarse instead. He felt the eyes of the employee on him and so he turned around his wheelchair and escaped the shop as fast as he could without making it seem as though he was indeed fleeing, nearly pushing over a few other items in the process. He could not stand being in there. He could not stand being around that lady or Malik, hearing them talk like this. He just needed fresh air and to feel as if his heart was not going to explode in his chest, although … he would not really care if it did. He only stopped his wheelchair as he was a few meters away and was finally able to breathe again. His hands and arms were terribly exhausted from the strain putting upon them the entire time.

"You know, this is not working, right?" Goddamn, this man! Malik really was like a nasty bug, always following him everywhere. He did not face him, but rather stared through the glass half-wall down onto the ground-floor where a mother argued with her little son in front of a toy store. "You are depressed, I get it." Malik continued and Altaїr could not help but snort, but Malik sighed. "You are forgetting that I was there too. I was depressed when I lost my arm when I lost… when Kadar died. I behaved like the biggest asshole on the entire planet. I treated everyone like shit – but especially you. I know this and I fought to get out of that black hole because giving up is not an option, right? You said it yourself. Giving up never is an option.

You can overcome this, but therefore you need to face the situation first. This is what it is. You are paralyzed. Your nerves have been cut. You will most probably never walk again. You will sit in a wheelchair probably for the rest of your life. Am I saying there is no chance that things will change in a few years? No, certainly not. Maybe there will be a break-through in science that will allow you to walk again or give me back a fully functioning arm. Maybe we will be back on the battlefield, the first soldiers with bionic limbs that are fully working like normal ones. But I must say it is highly unlikely. So, this is the situation we must face. You will sit in this chair for the rest of your life and I will have to deal with one hand for the rest of my life. The only thing we both can do is live anyway as best we could, maybe even better just to fuck over fate. Let this wheelchair be your new wings, Altaїr, because it is either that or certain death at one point and you are most certainly not the type to commit suicide so you might as well live and make the best out of it."

"Are you done?" Altaїr slowly answered although he did not really feel like it. He just wanted to scream at Malik. He wanted to tell him that he would have never made the grave mistake he had made if Malik would not have broken up with him. If he and his mind had not been so focused on Malik, he would have never had this accident. It was selfish and cruel, but this was how he felt and yet a part of him still loved this man, still yearned for this man, still wanted to get back to where they left off.

"For now." Malik replied unflinchingly. He had always been the only person unfettered by Altaїr's displays of subliminal anger – although his anger right now was far from being subliminal.

"Why do you care anyways? Are you enjoying this? Are you having fun seeing me like this? Is this why you want to move in with me again? What is your gain from all of this Malik?" He growled. "Because it is certainly not some kind of sick affection for a cripple in a wheelchair and love it isn't either." This time he finally turned his head enough to look at Malik with his amber eyes glaring with anger, although he felt like crying, but Malik only cocked one eyebrow at him in the process and walked to the half wall to lean against it with his back.

"You are an unbelievable difficult person to deal with. Your story was good, you know? The way you behaved in this story is how it is in reality. When I first came to your place I did so because I was asked to and because I was worried, but seeing as you painted me like some kind of monster in your story and then not at all like a monster made me see that there was still hope of redemption for me. And no, before you explode again, I am not doing this as some kind of punishment neither for you not for me. You are an asshole. You always were. You are arrogant – still. You are a poser and your pride is always tainting your sight. You see the worst in most people, you hurt people and mostly you are not even aware of it. But I never quite minded this, because I saw a different person most of the times. What I did mind was not having you by my side any longer – not as a lover, but as my best friend. I am certain that we will never go back to where we left off, but you need someone to kick your ass, someone who knows you and someone who is not afraid of you in the slightest bit, so that you can get better. It seems this is on me now, as it always was."

Altaїr let his gaze slip from Malik's face. His former best friend refused to look at him just like he had refused to look at Malik before and so Altaїr stared down again. The mother had stopped arguing with her apparently very difficult son who was back in the toy store again and left his mother crying on a bench overwhelmed by the difficulty and stress of the situation. "You are an asshole too." He informed Malik as distant as he possibly could.

"I am aware." Malik replied with a low hum. "But I still think we should go and buy that wheelchair. It will take time until yours will arrive at the shop after all, because of all those extras and user-defined adjustments, but maybe we can even paint rally stipes on it as soon as you got it and then I shove you down a halfpipe."

He did not want to, but he smirked nonetheless by the thought of it, because honestly? This sounded like something the old Altaїr would have done.


	9. Chapter 9

Altaїr was helpless. He had no chance to resist. He had no chance to escape. He could only sit and watch as the world around him ended, crumbling into pieces, while he was forced to do the unthinkable without being able to do anything about it other than to just let it happen and witness the tragedy unfold.

"You behave like a baby, Altaїr." Maria's voice cut like a dagger through his misery as she sighed from the sidelines, but of course, she had it easy. It was not her being tortured by an overly motivated physiotherapist bending Altaїr's legs to the point where the rest of his body (the still very much _feeling_ part of his body) ached and screamed in horrendous pain and agony until he felt as if he was about to snap in half if this mad man would try bending him even a millimeter further.

"Then how about you do this, Maria?" He groaned as the young man stretched Altaїr's left leg into an almost impossible angle and had not even the decency to care for their argument or Altaїr's pained face. This man was the devil.

"You don’t do anything, Altaїr. He is. You just lie there and make faces, although I must admit that I have never seen someone make such lovely faces as you. I believe this could become a new form of art." Maria sat on a quite comfortable looking turquoise chair, to the side of the clean white room Altair was in near a giant window that was facing the lush park around the building. Next to her, his wheelie had been parked, after he had managed to get to the floor and onto the yoga mat lying there. There first thing she did was to grab one of those stupid magazines about healthcare and tried her best for the most part not to watch while Altaїr was being twisted and stretched while appearing incredibly interested in the topic of surgical stockings and arthrosis.

He hated this. "I don’t trust this guy." Altaїr moaned as his back was aching yet again under the strain the man put him in, but the young man with the slightly darker skin just laughed at this comment.

"I tell this to Uncle Umar if you don’t behave." _Uncle_ was a rather stretched term, in this case, so Altaїr only glared at the man shortly. Connor Kenway wore his long black hair pulled back into an almost neat ponytail (his father would be oh so very proud) and in the loud neon light of the room they were in, his freckles were all the more prominent on the bridge of his nose and under his eyes. He was large in build and height, which was weird considering what a small kid he had always been until he had hit puberty and really – puberty had done justice to Connor. If they were not indeed related, he would almost fancy him. Almost. "After all you should be glad that you do have physiotherapist in your family, right? I would like to remind you and my dad about the way you guys reacted to my decision when I started my training."

Connor was a few years older than him and everyone had expected him to become a doctor, especially his father, although his father had always hoped that Connor might either follow in his footsteps in becoming a lawyer or that he at least would join the family business over in London, instead his stubborn son moved from America first to Britain and then to Germany almost two years ago and decided on a very different path.

"Yes, I'm so glad I'm a cripple and have my cousin moving around my useless limbs for no apparent reason other than to humiliate me further." He scoffed, but Connor, with the face of a Buddhist monk, continued the exercises. Connor had always been the one person in their family who had a calming influence on everyone else and who always seemed calm as well, even though he had a bad temper mostly. But, Altaїr guessed, growing up with a man like Haytham Kenway, one would need to find his inner Buddhist monk at one point. Up until now, Altaїr had refused to visit this place, even though he had not been able to escape Connor since his accident, but even his visits had lessened. After all, and that was one uncomfortable thing Connor never liked to bring up since his visitations at Altaїr's flat had not been officially assigned, he had not been paid and his job was either way very demanding. Surely he did not need a ball and chain like him to make his days even more stressful than they already were. Maria had forced him to come here, allegedly under Malik's command, even though they all knew that no one could force Maria Thorpe to do anything she did not want or like. That was one reason why Rauf had never succeeded I convincing Maria that he was husband material, even though Altaїr and Malik had always advised her to give him a chance, but now she was married to this incredible asshole that her family had deemed more appropriate for her. Now Maria was facing the same fate most upper-class women with her social background were facing as soon as they decided to marry a guy their family agreed upon and was alone most of the time because poor old Robert was always on some business trip – or that was at least what he always said. Worse, Maria even loved that man, which should be the reason why people were getting married in the first place usually, but which was a giant mistake in this case.

"Have you ever considered therapy?" Maria sighed from the sidelines after his rather rude comment towards Connor before and although he quite well knew what she meant he just glared at her.

"I'm undergoing therapy right now, as you can see." He hissed and noticed the sharp glare Connor granted him out of the corner of his eye. Connor never liked aggressive behavior, especially towards women. He was very much like a golden retriever always protecting those he loved and very sensitive towards the moods of other people. He was a caring and empathetic guy that was why he was so good at his job and even though he was living in this country only for a short amount of time, his neighbors and coworkers loved him, because he was the one bear like guy who would help an old lady across the street, who would carry the grocery bags of his pregnant neighbor and who would soothe a small child that scraped their knee.

"She meant for your mental problems." Connor carefully hummed as he went on to massaging his legs. Altaїr hated this. It was so weird seeing what was done to his body but not being able to feel anything of it. Well, this was not entirely true. He did feel something, sometimes, but not nearly enough to make him rejoice or hope that he might be one of those very few very fortunate people who recovered from such an injury. First, right after his injury, he had refused to acknowledge it as fact that he would never walk again. He had been stuck in a constant loop of denial and apologies and false hope until he finally grasped that all this was forlorn and with that revelation came the aggression and those dark thoughts that always clouded his vision and his brain up to the point where he could barely even function anymore. He knew that he had indeed a problem, that he indeed was suffering from depression, but admitting something like this to himself and admitting it to others were two very much different things. He was yet again stuck in this loop of denial, but this time not so much because he needed to lie to himself, but to everyone else. He did not want them to look at him with pity or to be even more careful around him with their words because they did not want to upset him. He did not want to be treated like some fragile little flower. He wanted to be made upset by someone. He wanted the harsh truth without his friends being anxious that he might kill himself in the wake of said truth. Of course, he was aware that his friends were always in a constant state of alert around him, looking for possible signs of suicidal thoughts so they could intervene or take away every sharp object in his flat.

"I don’t have mental problems." He sneered instead and he wanted to slap away Connor's big paw as he was massaging his left thigh to stimulate the muscles and the circulation. He had done this before when Altaїr had still been a fully functioning human and had troubles after parkour related injuries and thus he knew that this massage was supposed to hurt like hell. Sadly it did not. He remembered when he had first been undergoing this kind pf treatment he had almost cried in pain, now there was just nothing.

"You are depressed." Connor hummed with his eyes narrowed on the task under his fingertips as he was digging them deep into his flesh. "And badly so. The breakup has hit you hard enough already back then, this injury only added to your hurt. You need professional help and maybe then we will be able to get you going again, but until that point, you are hardly even capable of looking out for yourself, so I think moving in with Malik is the right thing to do at that point. Surely Uncle Umar would rather have you back home instead, but I can understand that you do not like the idea of having your father care for you again like this." Connor was mostly a very blunt man and liked to say what he was thinking. He never bothered in sweeten his opinion and Altaїr always appreciated this while talking to him – but not now, even though only seconds before, he had wished exactly for that uncomfortable truth. The thing was, _wanting_ to hear the truth out of someone's mouth and then actually _hearing_ it, were also two very different things.

"I am not depressed." Altaїr growled even though he very well knew he was, but again it was a whole other thing to admit to this in front of _friends_ or family. "And I most certainly don’t need anyone's help!" He scrambled away from Connor's tight grip around his thigh and his cousin let go of him immediately as if he had been burned. He did not try to stop him as Altaїr was crawling back to his wheelchair, that was standing only a meter or two away from him and pulled himself back up, smacking Maria's hands away as she tried to help him. Connor was apparently wise enough not to try even.

"Altaїr…" Maria tried as she watched him pull his useless body up into his chair. It was an exhausting process, even though his upper body was still strong – even though clearly not as strong as it had been once. He was sweating already from the exercises he had been forced to do by his cousin and even worse now that he finally managed to get in the chair already. Still, he did his best not to pant. "Altaїr, what do you do?" Maria sighed and got up from her chair, grabbing her black handbag in a way that it was clear to Altaїr she was preparing to grab the handles of his wheelie and wheel him out of here again.

"What does it look like? I'm leaving. I'm done with this shit here. I don’t need your pity looks or your help or your so called _advice_!" He hissed, undoing the breaks and grabbing his wheels to maneuver his wheelie towards the large glass door that was leading onto the corridor of the facility. Maria moved to follow him, but to Altaїr's biggest surprise it was Connor who stopped her by gently grabbing her left arm.

"Let him, Maria." He sighed. "You can't force your help upon him if he doesn’t want you to help."

Altaїr threw a glance over the shoulder to glare at Connor with narrowed brows and saw out of the corner of his eye how Maria finally relaxed a bit again and lowered her hands. "Yeah right…" Altaїr growled before he left.

He had left his house before of course by himself in his wheelie, but he had never taken the subway or the bus by himself in his wheelie by now and he did not feel at all comfortable to be out there at all for everyone to see. Still, Altaїr did not go straight back home, for he reckoned someone was there, either Malik or Rauf to continue packing his stuff and he did not want to see anyone. For a moment he thought about visiting his father in his café, trying to feel normal again, but he could not bring himself to. After all, his father had not visited him for weeks now, even his calls had stopped. He doubted his father had lost interest in his only child, because his father had always been on his side, always loving and supportive, but … Maybe he just had enough of his behavior and Altaїr could hardly blame him really. Some days he really thought his father might be better off without him. Hell, everyone would.

 

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Malik would never claim that he was worried. No, maybe that was not the right way to put it. He was not really _worried_ , he was furious. He was livid. He was angry. Angry at Maria because she had let Altaїr go on his own wherever he had wanted to go, angry with Connor because he was the voice of reason mostly that would have been very well able to hold Altaїr back if he had wanted to, but most of all he was angry at Altaїr. No one had either seen or heard from him after he had left Connor's workplace early. He had just left and gone on his own to do whatever he wanted after Maria and Connor apparently tried to talk to him about his momentarily mental instability.

 _He is no child, Malik_ , his inner voice of reason reminded him sternly. _He knows what he is doing surely. He is an adult. If he wants to roam the city all by himself in a wheelie than he has every right to do so._ He ruffled his hair as he slumped down heavily onto Altaїr's uncomfortable couch. He did not even quite know why he was still here at Altaїr's place honestly. There was no good explanation for it really. He just … Well, he stayed after Rauf had left a few hours ago when they finished packing Altaїr's belongings neatly into boxes - it wasn’t much anyway. Rauf had offered to stay with him after the day had turned to night slowly and after there had not been a trace of Altaїr still. _Just in case_ , Rauf had said without further explanation, but Malik was very well aware what he meant with this. Altaїr had left Connor's practice in a state of distress and uproar… Hell! Everyone could see how depressed he was, how fucked he was in the head! He wasn’t able to cope! He had sat here for weeks without taking care of himself! Without cleaning himself properly! Without eating properly! Without taking care of the flat! Malik wanted to think his visits might have already changed something about him but of course, they had not! How could they? And… it was not as if he could just force Altaїr to move in with him again as if he could force himself upon Altaїr again like this and everything would just work out fine, right? It just did not work like this. They were both bullheaded and not the easiest people to be around. They did not really match either. They were like fire and ice honestly but still, he had loved this man to death and a part of him probably still did. A part of him still wanted to get back together. And now he sat in Altaїr's flat and waited for a sign of life and the only thing he could think of was that he was still Altaїr's emergency contact.

He had been called first when Altaїr's plane had crashed. Not his father. It had been him and he would never forget the panic surging through his veins when he had been informed of the accident.

 

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Maybe he should have just called Umar and told him about the phone call. Maybe he should have just informed Altaїr's dad about the accident and do nothing more and yet he stood here, hours and hours after the phone call that had changed his whole life even though it really should not have changed a thing. Sure their break-up had been one nasty fight but he surely could not entirely blame Altaїr … if at all, for in fact, it had been his fault, hadn't it? It had been him provoking everything that had followed suit after their fights. The fact of the matter was that he could not stand Altaїr any longer after the accident. Not that his former best friend and boyfriend had ever been an easy person to be around. Hell no, but after the accident, after he had lost his arm, it had been worse for sure. Even now just thinking about Altaїr's pitiful eyes always shying away from him when Malik caught him staring, in what seemed to have been some kind of self-loathing and guilt, made him furious to this day. If Altaїr had just done as he had been told back then, Malik would have never needed to jump into his car with his brother that night.

A cruel little voice in his mind told him that maybe Altaїr deserved what he got now, that it had been just a matter of time until his luck would run out and until he would finally crush down like Ikarus himself. Yet, no matter how loud this little cruel voice in his mind wanted to cheer, he felt a lump in his throat, sitting on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, waiting for the doctors to come and tell him that the inevitable had happened. No matter how much Altaїr's father would pray to Allah or to whomever, there was no way Altaїr could have survived the crash.

"Oh my god…" Maria's voice was thin next to him and her grasp strong as her fingers suddenly clasped Malik's right forearm in shock, ripping him violently from his thoughts and back into the real world filled with people sitting on the same uncomfortable chairs as he, waiting for their loved ones to be alright again. It took him a little moment until he realized what was wrong, but when he did he felt his blood run cold. The small TV in the waiting lounge that had been showing nothing of interest up until now, had now switched to the late night news and thus to a clip of the horrific accident of a pilot during one of his practice stunts. Malik could not tear his eyes away from the screen as he watched the amateur clip of the narrow plane Altaїr had loved so much, leaving the ground. It was not uncommon for Altaїr having some member of his team filming his training sessions so that he would be able to see his mistakes from an outsider's viewpoint afterward, but now Malik wished that no one would have filmed.

He noticed too late that Umar had torn his eyes away from the ground for once while his fingers were still slowly turning the small beads in his hand, his lips still forming silent prayers, still praying to Allah to give him back his only son safe and sound. Maybe he would have turned the TV off somehow before Umar could have seen the moment when smoke started to erupt from the left power unit of the plane. The first panicked screams were muffled on the video, but still very much there and still very much a sign that something had gone horribly wrong. Already mechanics were running onto the field, as the plane with the large eagle painted onto its sides started to carefully plummet down again. Altaїr had surely noticed that something was wrong and had tried to land his machine as safely as he could before it would crash, but he did not manage to. Only meters away from the ground the smoking engine exploded and the plane lost its momentum, crashing nose down onto the ground within seconds, then the video ended and the program cut back to a rather distressed looking broadcaster. The young woman hastily brushed back a lock of blonde hair behind her right ear and continued to read the news as if she had not just broadcasted the horrible accident on national TV.

"He will live, right?" Maria asked beside him, her voice thin and frail, but as Malik turned his gaze towards her, he could see that she was biting back a sob, her eyes already swimming in tears.

"Of course." Malik heard himself saying, his voice hoarse and raw, so he cleared his throat and laid his right arm around her shoulders as if that would make it any better. "Of course he will survive. Would he ever grant us the favor of finally leaving us in peace?"

 

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He should not have taken the subway to the city center, he knew this and he had known right in that very moment when he managed to get his wheelie through those automatic doors only to be stared at by little children. He was confronted with a lot of angry looks, as he needed a moment to adjust to the surroundings and find the spot where wheelchairs were supposed to be on the train. The section was not very large, with a row of five seats of which only one could be folded back so that either a wheelchair or a buggy could be parked there. The space was small and a young teenage girl shot him a venomous look as she needed to leave this very seat so that he could _park_ there, mumbling something into her phone along the lines of _he can sit anywhere, can't he?_   before walking all the way back to the other end of the train and start ranting about him on her phone. He did not like that. A part of him wanted to shout at her for being a spoiled brat, for he had been raised to always look out for his fellow humans and elderly. His father had always said that he was always supposed to make room if there wasn’t whenever an elder or a pregnant woman or a disabled person would go on the train. Now he was the disabled person and he hated it.

People on the subway were always in a hurry to get from point A to point B and they did not have time to help someone like him at all, not that they would care. Surely they were no bad people, but … he sure was furious as he was ignored for the third time asking someone for directions after he got out of the subway after a while. At least cologne was a city that cared for its disabled people and most subway stations were designed so that people like him could maneuver around almost without problems - except for the idiots that were blocking elevators the whole time because they were too lazy to use the stairs or at least the escalators if they were really too tired to move their fucking legs as long as they were still able to…

As he arrived at the cinema he turned off his phone completely, not because he did not want to disturb anyone (for after a trip on the cologne subway he could not care less, to be honest), but because after an hour of him having left Maria's side he had already three missed calls from her. He did not want to talk to anyone. He wanted to be left alone for once! At first it had not been his desire to go to the cinema simply because he did not know if it was at all manageable for him without help and because he found it strange to go alone, but yet he was here. He had always loved visiting the cinema and to just sit in absolute darkness to enjoy a movie. Here he could just disappear for a while and not care for the world around him. If anything as long as he was sitting there the world could stop turning for all he cared.

Of course, most of the times he had been here with Malik or their friends. Sometimes he had even been alone with Kadar whenever Malik did not want to. Altaїr loved action and superhero flicks, Malik thought them to be stupid, so instead he had went with Malik's enthusiastic brother countless times, even though their father had always been against it, later fearing that this damned faggot could taint his other son too. Thinking of those times did not really added to his mental health, he guessed, but he shoved those memories to the side after he had finally entered the theatre.

The movie was okay, the people, though not so very many, annoying little shitheads, often complaining about the space he and his wheelie took, even though he was sitting in one of the chairs at the side and his wheelie stood beside him on the sidelines, even though the theatre was almost empty. People, especially German people, liked to complain, he guessed, no matter why. Complaining was always gold and if there really was nothing to complain about one could be certain a decent German would find something to complain about. Usually that did not face him, but today it did and so he left the cinema earlier while the movie was coming to an end, simply for he did not want to be there when everyone else was leaving. It was pathetic and he felt like the biggest coward, but he did not want to be seen by those idiots getting back into his wheelie and fighting his way up to the double winged doors and he did not want to be stared at either while everyone was leaving and he would keep sitting there to wait until he would get into the chair again. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. Back when he had still been normal he would not have cared if people were staring at him and he would have clearly started arguing with those idiots complaining about someone in a wheelie. But now that he was the one in the wheelie suddenly he felt as if he had lost all of his courage and that made him all the more angry.

When darkness hit the town and most people were slowly retreating back to their homes and families, he was still out there. He was getting really tired really fast from moving his wheels with his own hurting hands, but he refused to call a taxi to get him back home and he somewhat refused to get back home at all. What if someone was still waiting for him there? He did not want to be questioned and why should he answer to anyone at all? He was no little child, was he? If he wanted to spend a night out in town he could do that! If he wanted to go and fuck around, he could do that … Well, actually he couldn’t, but the thought was what counted.

So he kept strolling around the city and the night grew darker, the people he encountered grew fewer, the neighborhood he strolled through worse. He did not know at what point he decided to get back home, he did not even have a look at his watch and he still had not turned on his phone yet. He could have called for a taxi and get home safely and without trouble, but for whatever reason he decided to rather go down to the subway again even though he had no clue where he was. At least cologne had a very good and organized subway system although of course, as a German he had to find and call out its flaws even though they were few.

During this time in the night the trains were not coming in ten minute intervals any longer and when he got on the right platform finally he needed to wait twenty minutes until the next train would arrive to bring him home.

The station was quiet and empty this late at night and the electronical display panel announcing the trains told him that it was already around one in the morning. But no matter that he felt like he was alone, he could not relax in his chair. Weird how he had always felt at ease and save before the accident, but since he was vulnerable like this he even now felt uneasy even though there was no threat in sight around him at all. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone in the cold wind that was blowing through the train station, surrounded only by the faint screeching noises of trains moving through the bowels of the city and suddenly he noticed that really he had never felt lonelier in his entire life. And he clearly had never felt angrier at the entire world and especially at himself.

It was his own fault he was sitting in this wheelchair now. If he had listened to Malik back then, if he had not went out to face off Abbas back then, if he would not have called Malik in the middle of the night to pick him up because he had hurt himself like the idiot he was, Malik would never have gotten into that car with Kadar. He would have never lost his arm, never have lost his brother, they would still be together, they would still be happy and Altaїr would have never made this grave mistake and ignoring the warnings of his mechanics before he had gotten into that plane. In the end, like everything, it was his fault.

He almost did not notice the squeaky footsteps on the _beautiful_ ivory ground, when he finally got the company he did not want in his current state of despair when those train tracks seemed so very welcoming as if they just waited for him to finally answer his _l'appel du vide_ and throw himself in front of the next train. _Well, let's face it, you would not even be able to do that properly. You would probably just lose an arm… or both and be an even greater hindrance for everyone._

His blissful quietude was ruined and disrupted by a group of rowdy teens walking onto the platform. Probably drunk, probably underage – not that he would care. He did not care either for their laughter or their loud voices, however when they finally laid eyes upon the cripple in the wheelchair this feeling of not caring at all shifted towards the nagging feeling that something bad was bound to happen real soon.

"Look at this guys!" When the first call erupted from one of the idiot teens, Altaїr tried to think nothing of it or at least coax his face into not showing the state of annoyance he was already in, because of those kids. He was at a point and age in his life now, where he was not at all able to sympathize with teens anymore, even though he had been one himself not all that long ago actually. "I bet that cripple wins every race with this racing car!"

Altair immediately felt his shoulder rise out of instinct. The proud eagle that had once covered his beloved plane was long gone now and in its place was just a tiny tortoise now that liked to hide in its shell from any possible threat. This needed to stop right now. His father had raised him to be proud and strong, to always stand tall and keep his ground, not to let himself get bullied by some teen that was ten years younger than him at least! "Wanna grab yourself a fist to eat kid?" He shot back over the muffled laughter of the boy's friends as he slowly turned his wheelchair around to face them.

He did not know if he would make things worse like that. Probably. Maybe those idiots would have just continued on their merry way if he would not have made this comment, but he really did not care if he was making it worse or not. He did not care that he was a cripple. He had every right to defend himself even against a group of stupid kids! He was done shying away. He was done keeping his head down.


	10. Phase III - Negotiation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No new chapter next week, for I am off to Rome this Sunday XD Sorry for this awful chapter tho...

There was one thing everyone should know when dealing with Altaїr: You never know what will happen next. As a teenager, Malik had enjoyed this factor of their friendship greatly, for it had brought a sense of adventure with it that he had desperately needed in his life. If not for Altaїr he would have never joined the military but rather studied law or something serious like this. Or at least that was what his father had expected of him. Since he broke up with Altaїr he had found himself angry about the fact that only because of him, Malik and his father had such a bad relationship. If it had not been for Altaїr, he would still be close to his dad like they used to be, even though Kadar had always been his favorite. That was only yet another reason for his father to hate on his gay son now that his favorite was gone.

Now, however, he knew that he and his father would have crashed at some point or another and that it really had nothing to do with Altaїr or with him being gay. Somehow Malik was even glad that he rather followed Altaїr's bad influence instead of following his father's rules. It was easy to put the blame on someone like Altaїr who so willingly accepted and took it when in reality it had been Malik who had wanted all of this. It had not been Altaїr making the first step, it had been Malik, but he sometimes liked to ignore that fact. But, oh, he had been so incredibly jealous back then seeing Maria and Altaїr together, afraid that they would become a couple if he would not make a move on Altaїr first.

Anyway, now he found himself in a rather different situation. A part of him had hoped that his phone would ring this night and a part of him had hoped it would not, but as it did Malik jumped right into action and now he was here at the hospital once again, staring in awe at his former best friend's bloody face. Malik was not really a fan of visiting this place all too often but now he was here again and not because the hospital had called him, but the police. Well, that was something new and unexpected at least. "Do I want to know how the other guy looks like?" Malik sighed when he entered the room Altaїr was kept in. Altaїr sat on a simple bed, with a wheelchair standing close. It was not his.

Altaїr snorted. He looked terrible to Malik. His lips were split (once again) in the same spot they had been split when they had been kids and a very young, very nervous looking physician was stitching the large cut shut again with caution as to not further hurt his patient. His nose looked bruised but at least it was not broken, he had a few minor scratches all over his face and dark bruises that slowly started to form and blossom in all their glory. His clothes were ripped at several places. Altaїr was a mess, which was hardly something new and unexpected, as he recalled.

"The others can be glad I haven’t ripped them apart." He snarled as the physician finished his needlework and shot a court glance at the young injured man in front of him. "Fucking assholes … attacking a man in a wheelchair. What's up with teenagers these days? What's up with their parents? Ma dad would have ripped me a new one."

"Well, you may be glad to hear that one of the teenagers that attacked you, Sir, is undergoing surgery right now." The physician invaded their conversation and Altaїr only huffed, rolling his eyes as if it was not big deal because to Altaїr it wasn’t. When he got into a fight he was like a bull.

"Serves him right for attacking a man in a wheelchair. No one said I am not allowed to fight back only because I am a cripple." He growled as he cast an angry look at the young man. Well, at least he was right with that. Of course, he should fight back when he was being attacked.

 _Well, that was that_ , Malik thought as he sat down on a chair nearby and waited for Altaїr to be stitched up. Apparently Altaїr had gotten into an argument with a bunch of drunken kids and apparently _a fight had erupted from it_ , as Altaїr called it, though Malik knew him well enough to know that this meant nothing else but that Altaїr started a fight with those kids in which he got thrown out of his wheelchair apparently which had not stopped him from fighting those kids like a rabid dog. Malik could almost see it play out in front of him like a movie. To Altaїr it did not matter whether he was bound to a wheelchair or if all his limbs were amputated, when someone caused him to fight, he _would fight_ until blood was being shed.

"So your wheelchair is broken now, am I right?" Malik sighed as he left the hospital together with Altaїr who had visible troubles of wheeling himself out. His left hand was hurt quite a bit after apparently one of the teenagers stomped on it. He really got beaten up pretty badly, even though Altaїr was not willing to agree on this for he did not want to appear weak. He and his stupid pride. Oh, he was driving Malik insane with it, slowly but surely! How could anyone in their right mind start fighting with a whole group of drunken teenagers especially when they sat in a wheelchair? He had gotten kicked in the face, kicked in the stomach, stomped on, all while lying on the cold floor of a subway station and trying to beat those kids up himself – in which he seemingly succeeded anyway, however, he had managed to do just that. And while the responsible adult who Malik was most of the time really was flabbergasted about this grade of stupidity Altaїr had shown tonight, the wounded soldier knew and understood why. He knew how angry Altaїr must feel and he had known for quite a bit now that it was only a matter of time until he would start lashing out on people either verbally or physically. This was the second phase of grievance, he thought briefly. Denial, aggression, negotiation, acceptance. Altaїr needed to go through all of them, just as he had.

Malik would never forget the moment he woke up in the hospital having lost his arm, having lost his little brother he was supposed to protect in the blink of an eye. One moment Kadar was there, the next moment he was gone. Kadar had stayed with him that day and had wanted to spend the night at Malik and Altaїr's flat, binge-watching some series or play video games with his idol. He should not have taken Kadar with him as he had jumped in the car to pick up his pathetic boyfriend, he really shouldn’t have. But Kadar had insisted on tagging along as he always had.

First, he had not wanted to accept that his brother was gone just as well as his arm, then he had grown angry quite fast after the funeral. He had started to lash out on Altaїr, first verbally, calling him nasty names, yelling at him for no good reason, then, to his biggest shame, physically too. Maybe this was what broke them apart. Of course, he knew that he, during that time, had not been able to stand Altaїr being around him, but he knew now that they would have been able to overcome this together if it had not been for him attacking Altaїr. And yet, no matter the attacks, Altaїr had stayed with him and that had made him only angrier. The first time he had hit Altaїr, he had felt shame and disgust for himself. The fact that Altaїr had stayed confronting him day in and day out with the black eye he had placed upon his own boyfriend, had made it only worse, the shame only growing bigger and bigger and with the shame the anger too growing inside his mind relentlessly.

If he had not broken up with Altaїr, if he had not thrown him out of their flat the day that he did, he would have killed him. He knew he would have done it. Altaїr was sometimes such an idiot. He let his guard down when he felt he could trust someone, even when this someone beat him to a bloody pulp. He had not even fought back even though he would have been able to and that had made him snap every time it came to such a situation, for he felt that Altaїr's refusal of fighting back was not born of love, but pity because clearly Malik would have been at a disadvantage in such a fight with only one arm against a combat trained soldier. He would have loved a good old brawl with Altaїr. He would have loved to fight him and have him fighting back. He felt, maybe, this would have changed a lot between them.

He could only hope Altaїr would not act like him from now on. Oh, he had felt the restless fury brewing inside the man during the last days and maybe he had even tried to bring him to the point of explosion so that Altaїr might lash out on him and not on any of their friends or some innocent person. He seemed to have cooled down a bit though now after his fight with those stupid kids who really had not known what they were getting themselves into.

"Yeah." Altaїr sighed almost ramming a door on his way out with his chair, cursing as he was not able to use his left hand, so Malik grabbed the left handle with his right hand walking at his side to steady the wheelchair in its path. "Idiot kids broke the wheels. Assholes." He snorted and spit on the floor as they finally left the hospital and drove into the crisp nightly air. "I really should change that emergency contact info, shouldn’t I? Sorry for getting you involved in my shit again. Surely you have something better to do then to pick up your idiot ex-boyfriend."

Malik almost stopped in utter confusion. "What was that? Did I really just hear the great Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad apologize for being an idiot? I guess I should call the newspapers or we should go back and have your head checked out."

Altaїr only shot him a dark glare as they kept going. "No, I mean it." He sighed. "We are not a couple anymore, we are no friends anymore, I should change that information back to my dad or … I dunno, Connor maybe."

"We could become friends again, you know?" Malik sighed. It was quiet outside, the usually so lively city peaceful. He had always been quite the night owl although his military training got him used to a strict routine of getting to bed early and getting up even earlier. Altaїr had had it hard during this basic training. He barely slept. He had never been much of a sleeper. Now, however… Well, now he seemed to sleep away his life quite often. "I mean after all we are going to live together again, so we should start out with becoming friends again."

"And how do you suppose this would work?" Altaїr huffed. "Shall I go and steal all your toys again? It worked last time I guess."

"As if you won't do this anyway. I still miss a few of my books you know?" Malik hummed into the darkness. He felt as if he was achieving something with this conversation. A change maybe, even though it only may be a small one. Altaїr was talking to him and he even was joking again, this was a good sign, he guessed.

"Sold them on eBay." He grinned and the way he glanced up at him told Malik that this was not even a lie. Fucking prick. He still remembered the day Altaїr stole the book Malik and him needed for their exams in school with all of Malik's markers and highlighted parts for the exams. He never gave it back.

"Classic." Malik grunted and as he was about to turn to his car, Altaїr grabbed his arm to stop him for a second.

"I don’t want to go home." He immediately said with a frown, for, of course, Malik would drive him home in his car. No way he would leave Altaїr to his own devices again.

"Altaїr really. It's late, you are injured, come on you need to rest."

"Well, I'm not tired." Of course, he wasn’t. "I want to visit the skate park."

 

※※※※※

 

Malik did not really like the skater park, unlike his brother and his friends, though. _They_ liked to spend every bit of free time they had here, even Maria, but she was not here today. It was only him, Altaїr and his little brother. Malik was not much of a skater himself and to be honest he would not be able to skate on rollerblades, let alone a skateboard, even if his life would depend on it. Say, if a dinosaur would turn up out of nowhere now and the only way he would be able to survive and escape in getting away on rollerblades, Malik would die in a horrible way. Altaїr, however, was good at it. He was good at nearly everything that had to do with sports. Altaїr had always been an athletic guy and Kadar, Malik's little brother, idolized him greatly for that, always trying to act like Altaїr, always trying to live up to him. So, Malik rather liked to sit and watch while Altaїr and Kadar were trying out new tricks with their skateboards on the halfpipe, while Malik tried to study or do his homework ( _their_ homework, for Altaїr, would copy his anyway no matter how hard Malik would fight it. Altaїr was like a magpie and his desired goods nothing shiny but Malik's homework).

In a group of friends, everyone had their own unique little role to play. _He_ was the nerd of their group, or at least he felt this way most of the time. He was the one who would study while his friends were having fun. It was not as if he would not like having fun as well, or as if he would not want to do what his friends were doing, but … well … he liked studying too and he simply was not good at those things Altaїr always tried to teach him – plus, he really did not want to risk breaking his neck at all costs.

As Altaїr made a summersault with his board Kadar cheered him on and a few other people were stunned at the sight of it. Malik could not help feeling a little bit proud too, when Altaїr landed safely again without breaking any bones (this time), after all, they were friends and he and Altaїr had grown up together. By now they were seventeen and Altaїr … Well, he was not ugly for certain. This, of course, was not the reason why Malik liked to bang him at all.

"Malik!" Altaїr called from the halfpipe as he pulled himself onto the top again and sat down for a moment. "Did you see that Malik?"

Really, his good looks were hardly the reason why Malik had decided to elevate their friendship onto the next level, it was _this_. Altaїr really did not care for the others around, cheering him on or admiring him, whether it been strangers or friends. Every time he succeeded in a new trick he had troubles with before, he would look at Malik to see if Malik had witnessed his triumph. To him only Malik's response seemed to matter and that was what Malik liked the most about being here with him. Altaїr was an independent guy and no one was able to either tame or chain him for sure. He came and went as he pleased all the time, often intruding into Malik's bedroom in the middle of the night or getting him to leave the house to do something really stupid. There were no boundaries for him apparently and Malik had often envied him and his little brother for that because he had one hell of a lot of boundaries and rules to follow from his parents. But this one, Altaїr's only boundary seemed to be Malik and that was oddly satisfying.

"No! I was busy doing your homework, idiot!" Malik called back, but he caught the mischievous little smirk pulling on Altaїr's lips at the response because his idiot boyfriend knew fully well that he had been watching him. Of course, he had.

 

※※※※※

 

He would have never thought that he would ever find himself again at the Skater Park, let alone sit on top of the halfpipe like some dumbass teenager in the middle of the night. Getting Altaїr up here had not been an easy task but somehow they did manage with a lot of cursing and cussing involved. Malik would have given up getting Altaїr up here at least by the third attempt, but Altaїr was stubborn and insisted on keep on trying and like when they had been teenagers, Altaїr's willpower was contagious. And a tiny bit, Malik was glad to see the fight coming back into Altaїr's eyes like this. He had missed this old sparkle.

The air was cool around them even though it was already May, but the nights in early May were mostly cool and uncomfortable. Tonight, however, it was bearable and the sky clear. There was not a single cloud blocking their sight of the firmament and every little star was clear to see. For a moment Malik thought about the days of their childhood again. He thought about the times Altaїr kidnapped him in the middle of the night to bring him here and just stare at the sky. As if nothing had changed Altaїr rested with his back on the platform, cushioning his head with his left arm, his right hand resting on his flat stomach of which Malik could only see a few centimeters of skin for Altaїr's ridden up shirt. He did not seem to care, he never had. The only light they got came from two street lanterns nearby, but somehow it was still light enough for him to see Altaїr's face.

"I forgot how beautiful it is here." Altaїr sighed after a while. They had not talked as much as Malik would have thought after they left the hospital and he did not really know what they should talk about anyway, when he slowly laid back down on the platform next to Altaїr too and cushioned his own head on his right arm.

There they laid, just the two of them, like old friends who had never left each other's side ever, as if they were still the very same teenage boys that they had been a long time ago. No accidents, no injuries, no anger, no violence, no hurt, just them like it always had been and like Malik thought it always would be.

"I never thought things would happen like this." Malik then murmured, not knowing what came over him and yet allowing it for if it would help Altaїr, maybe it was good. Until now they had never talked about their breakup at all, nor about the things that happened between them before they had split up. Maybe now was the time to do exactly that. Maybe Altaїr needed this to come back to his senses, to start healing. "I always thought we would stay together forever."

Altaїr snorted. "Yeah, me too." He agreed but Malik could hear the bitterness in his voice and the deep-seated hurt that was dripping from his every word, every time Altaїr would talk to Malik. It did not really matter what they would talk about, but every time he would hear the hurt he had inflicted upon Altaїr.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you." Another snort from his left-hand side. "I mean it. I want to say that I did not intend of hurting you back then, that I did not mean to do what I have done, but that would be a lie, I guess. I wanted to hurt you. I was so angry and I blamed you for the accident and Kadar's death. I wanted you to hurt like I did and now you do and I am sorry."

"So, now you want to rid yourself of that guilt in keeping me company and forcing me to live with you again? It's not that easy, Malik. Maybe you start to feel better because you think you are doing something noble and good in tending to a cripple, but I will not feel better because of this. I can't stand being around you."

It would be a lie to say it would not sting hearing something like this from someone he had once loved with all his heart, really. Maybe this was the justice he deserved for the things he had done to Altaїr, for the way he had hurt him. It was the very same thing he had screamed at Altaїr, after all, and he could not blame the former pilot either. "I guess that’s what I get for being an asshole." Malik chuckled quietly into the starry sky.

"Back then I was dumb enough to think I could help you in staying by your side. I should have known better."

"Yes, you should have."

"We are both cruel men, aren’t we? You hurt me and now I lash out on Maria, on Connor and even on those stupid drunken teenagers whom I should have ignored instead of picking a fight with them. I am just so angry." His voice sounded strained and hoarse and Malik kept himself from glancing at him to not see the tears trickle from Altaїr's amber eyes. He just stared ahead. He did not need to see to know, after all, he knew that man better than even his own father. He knew every centimeter of skin, every little scar on his body.

"Yes, we are." Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? They were both cruel. They were both monsters.

 

※※※※※

 

Altaїr had always thought that one was only to tell who their real friends were when they wanted to move and needed help. He still thought so and he was mesmerized by the people walking into his new house. Maria was taking only the small and light boxes into the house of course; everything else would be insane with her and her big pregnant belly. Rauf and Connor were carrying the heavy stuff and at one point Altaїr watched kind of flabbergasted how his bear-like cousin was casually taking their old washing machine inside as if it meant nothing. It was probably just for show anyway. His father walked past him a few times. The only one who was not present was Faheem, but that was to be expected, he guessed. Faheem was always trying to avoid either Altaїr or his son, so why should he even think about helping them move into their new home. He had not been there when they moved into their flat as well.

To Altaїr it was an enigma why his father still considered Faheem to be his best friend. Faheem Al-Sayf was cruel. He had kicked out Malik as soon as he could after he had learned about his relationship with Altaїr. He had threatened Malik even, he had threatened _Altaїr_! Faheem had always watched him with suspicion and when his suspicions came true he would have maybe even thrown stones at him if it wasn’t for Umar and their long friendship. As a child, he had not fully understood how deep their friendship really was and how far it reached back until his father told him for the first time about his life in Syria and about his flight together with Altaїr's mother to safety.

Their fathers had known each other their entire life and only lost each other when things started to go down in Syria in the late eighties and beginning of the nineties, not knowing if their best friend ever made it to safety. Still, he could not understand why his father still saw Faheem as his friend after all the things this man had threatened Altaїr with. His own father was more open minded about everything, he had accepted Malik as his second son even and even though Malik and he had never married, nor were they allowed to marry in this country, to Umar Malik was his son in law and no break-up would change that.

Malik and he found themselves in a mess of moving boxes and empty cupboards, shelves, and cabins. It was already dark outside and their friends only left moments ago after they all had pizza in their new living room and every second of this little get together had been agony to Altaїr. Back when he had been still normal, he would have enjoyed those evenings. He had always loved spending time with his friends, eating and drinking and just having fun. But now it was agony and stress and pain to him. He had barely eaten or talked with the others while they shared stories. Sometimes they all seemed to be rather uncomfortable around him. Especially Rauf still did not know how to treat him and even his father was wary around him most of the time.

He was glad when the door fell shut behind Connor. He was glad to sit in silence surrounded by all the boxes they still needed to unpack. "Home sweet home, I guess." Malik laughed as he heavily sat down on one of the boxes. It read _pillows_ on its side, written in Malik's handwriting. It was one of the boxes Maria carried with a dark frown on her face.

"This is just a house." Altaїr snorted as he heaved himself out of his new sporty wheelchair and onto their sofa. "No home." Malik brought their old furniture for the most part and somehow it felt wrong sitting on this very sofa again where he and Malik had spent years on already, where he had laid when he had been sick with Malik torturing him with medicine, fighting to get him to behave, where they had cuddled during movies or just loafed around uselessly all day on a free day.

"We make it our home again." Malik smirked with a small yawn. It had been a long day for sure, but Altaїr did not feel tired. He did not feel motivated either. He felt … Well, nothing really. It was an odd state to be in, but he felt after this little incident a week ago with those teenagers, his anger started to slowly calm, leaving behind a mist of regret.

"I have thought about what you said." Altaїr started as he sunk back into the way too comfortable cushions of their dark gray sofa. Oh, he had always loved this bloody thing. He still remembered the day they bought it. Malik had not wanted this sofa because it had been too expensive for them, but Altaїr had just thrown himself on it and refused to get up until Malik had given in with a deep sigh, saying something along the lines of _We need to cut down on food then_. In the beginning, they hadn’t had much. All their savings they had used to buy that flat as they had always wanted. His father had helped them of course, but he remembered that they did not even have a bed in the first six months of their new independent life as a couple, both too stubborn and proud to have Umar buy them a bed. They had not really cared anyway. They had a large mattress and bedding and a lot of pillows and they had been perfectly contempt with it.

"About what?" Malik yawned and rubbed his right hand over his face. He was not wearing his prosthesis anymore. Apparently, he had unstrapped it before dinner. Altaїr still did not understand why he was wearing the thing anyway if he did not like it.

"About the rally stripes on my wheelchair. I think we should do it. I need to be prepared when I'm going back to the halfpipe again."

 


	11. Chapter 11

"So about Maria." Altaїr sighed and nudged Malik's shoulder, as he obviously noticed that his best friend was not listening to him any longer. Well, Malik thought, it only took him almost twenty minutes of his monolog to notice. Granted, it was dark - which was not too unusual considering that it was already past midnight. His father would be furious if he would ever find out that his oldest son was still outside - or rather outside _again_ , after Altaїr, obnoxious Altaїr, had thrown pebble stones against his window for solid ten minutes to get Malik's attention. He could as well have climbed up the trellis with his mother's prized primroses right underneath Malik's window (oh wouldn’t that have been romantic?) to climb into his room like a prince from a fairytale. Or rather like a stinking, sweating ogre. But then again Malik was glad that they left and were outside now. He enjoyed the crisp breeze around them, the leaves dangling from the trees, rustling loudly in the night air like a faint storm. It was September and still warm enough to spend time outside even so late at night. Summer in Germany tended to come late and stay a little while longer because of that. Especially in the last few years, Malik noticed that. Thinking back to the summers of his childhood he remembered long months of warmth and sunlight, but as the years progressed summer had been cut shorter and shorter - or was it him becoming older and more cynical, more aware of his surroundings?

Every year, when May hit the country, summer always seemed to be incredibly far away, while their neighboring countries were already enjoying the sun and warmth.

It was not only that Malik enjoyed being outside that late (he was quite the night owl anyway), but that at least they could talk in earnest. Lately, they rarely got the chance to talk as they were used to, for they rarely were left alone nowadays. Either one of their friends or his little brother was always around them. Of course, there were more than enough topics to talk to Altaїr about with their friends around, but certain topics were better left for private conversations, because no matter how good the friendship, certain things he would not and could not discuss with anyone but his very best friend. And a bit Malik was still proud that there still were things Altaїr would only discuss with him and only when they were completely alone like they were now.

It was a sense of trust he felt, a trust that maybe was invaluable – at least to him. A trust that he may be valuing even too much for his own good because every time he saw Altaїr talking in hushed voices to Maria he suddenly felt left out and maybe even a bit jealous. Oh, he knew how Altaїr felt or thought to feel towards Maria and he feared that maybe he would be left behind if his best friend would get what he thought he wanted at the moment. At least, he thought, Altaїr was one to quickly lose interest in certain things and maybe he would lose interest in Maria too. Well, that was what he told himself day to day for quite some time now anyway.

"What about her?" Malik sighed as he leaned back to rest his back against the platform above the halfpipe. Next, to him Altaїr groaned and kicked his left leg dangling down the platform.

"You know what I mean!" Altaїr moaned before he fell down next to him to lie with his back flat on the platform.

"I weren't listening."

"You never are." Altaїr scoffed. "Look what a good friend you are, Malik Al-Sayf, never listening to your best and only friend in the whole world."

"I still have Rauf."

"But Rauf is not as cool as me. Just you wait. Keep it up like this and you lose me and then you will be sorry for not listening to me."

He could not help but laugh about the pouting that he could hear dripping from his voice. He loved teasing Altaїr, simply because Altaїr would show him a side he did not show to anyone else. When Maria would tease him Altaїr would laugh even though he would not like the joke (because Altaїr was a person that could not laugh at himself most of the times). When Rauf would tease him, he would maybe even get a bit bitchy, but when Malik teased him he would behave like a child. He would pout and sometimes cling to him as if afraid that Malik really was annoyed by him and always when Malik criticized him he felt as if, after moping around for a while, his friend would really start thinking about the criticism in earnest. Altaїr did not really value the opinions of other people - except Malik's and his father's.

"So what about Maria? Don’t waste my time. We have school tomorrow and I would like to catch a few hours of sleep at least." Malik then hummed as he turned his face to his left side to watch Altaїr's face in the half-light of the moon above them and the very few streetlamps framing the skater park.

"Do you think I should tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

"Malik! come on!"

"Alright, alright! Jeez, sorry!" Malik huffed before looking at the stars above himself again, Altaїr's dangerous gloom still resting upon his face. It was not an easy thing to answer for him to be honest. Because as Altaїr's best friend he should be motivational, he should tell him that he should go to Maria and tell her that he liked her – even though she probably already knew – but as himself … as jealous old Malik, he did not want to motivate him. "I don’t know man."

"Well, you're not much of a help today really." Altaїr scoffed as he sat up again. He looked angry and ready to set off again for he did not get the overly enthusiastic confirmation of what he already decided to do apparently. But Malik shot up and grabbed his arm before he could leave.

"Listen, Altaїr. I know you like her, but I don’t know how she will react, you know?"

"You think she will reject me."

He hesitated for a moment. Oh, one single person should never have such might over the life of their best friend! He could change everything with his answer and that he knew for certain. If Maria would try being with Altaїr, it would change everything. If they would break up, it would change everything. If she would say no, it would change everything. He was not very fond of changes. But Altaїr's amber eyes were drilling holes into his almost black pits and so he sighed.

"Yes." He mumbled. "You see… Maria likes you as a friend, I guess. You always thought she just never really noticed your affection or how you meant the little gifts you gave her, but I think she very well knows and decided on not acting upon it to not hurt you or destroy the group."

"Oh, I see now." H felt a stone as big as the Cologne cathedral falling from his heart as he heard those words. Finally, Altaїr understood. Finally, this was over and they could go back to their day to day routine. "You like her yourself."

"What."

"Oh come on Malik, don’t act like you don’t know what I mean! You like her yourself! You are jealous! That’s why you don’t want me to tell her! That’s why you are discouraging me! You want her to yourself!"

Crap.

"No, I don’t!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don’t!"

"Then proof it!"

"How?"

"Well, you never were with a girl, were you? I always thought it was because you simply didn’t like anyone, but it was because you liked her! Why didn’t you tell me?"

"Because I don’t like her like this!" Malik shot back desperate for his best friend to finally understand that he indeed was speaking the truth, while inside his chest his heart decided on dancing the rumba of horror. He could not lose his best friend over such a stupid misunderstanding! He could not possibly let Altaїr believe that he, Malik Al-Sayf, liked _his_ girl! Rather he witnessed Altaїr and Maria getting together and living happily ever after than losing him!

"But you _are_ jealous! You always scrunch your nose when you are jealous! You did just now!" Altaїr replied with knotted brows, anger for Malik's lies written all over his face. Oh, sweet innocence! Oh, sweet naiveté! Altaїr had never been good at seeing what was right in front of his eyes.

"But I don’t like her!"

"Yes, you do!"

"No, I don’t! I like _you_ , you fucking moron!" As soon as the words slipped from his tongue, Malik wished they had not. It was not always easy to shut up the great Altaїr Ibn-La'Ahad, but this very night on the halfpipe only witnessed by the moon and the stars, Malik Al-Sayf succeeded.

※※※※※

He was sweating like a mad man. He was sweating like an armor clad warrior stomping off the battlefield after a won war with a dangerous threat to his home and family, victorious but exhausted. He was sweating like a gladiator dropping his sword after having slain a mystical beast in the bowels of the colosseum of ancient Rome. "Oh come on." Malik sighed. "It's not that bad."

He felt as if he already knew the situation. Maybe because he did. This whole situation reminded him of the times he had broken a leg and could not function the way he liked to, when everything, even the most normal of tasks felt almost impossible to even think about. "Are you doing this or I?" Altaїr hissed in exhaustion, trembling under the strain and the frustrating effort.

"I don’t see you doing anything." Malik grunted his response. "I don’t even know what you are trying to do there."

"I'm working out!" Altaїr grunted with his long fingers clawing at the wooden floorboards.

"You are lying on the ground like a slug!"

"I'm resting!"

"If you always sweat like this when you are resting, then you, my dear friend, are not doing it right." How did he even get in this situation? What on earth did he do to deserve such humiliation? He had always done his best to be a good guy, to be valiant and brave and polite and friendly to the people around him and yet he lay on the ground of his new home like a dirty sock ready to be thrown into the washing machine by his new-old roommate.

"Come on, let me help you get back in your wheelie." Malik sighed and crouched down next tom him to grab him under the left arm, but Altaїr shoved his hand away and instead clawed at the ground to pull himself another centimeter forward through his very own room in this new house. "This is getting ridiculous, you know?"

"I know!" Altaїr huffed, but still, he inched forward slowly. It was only a question of hours until he would make it back to his wheelie on his own, but his eyes remained fixed on his goal standing only a meter or so from him by the door. How could he have ever been this foolish as to leave it there? His arms were trembling under the strain he was putting on them, his muscles convulsing in agonizing pain. Fucking Connor Kenway and his fucking rehab sessions!

"Well, at least you see your idiocy…" Malik sighed and instead of helping him up again he stomped over Altaїr, carefully not to stomp down on his back and walked to the wheelie to wheel it closer to Altaїr. Every step on the ground so close to Altaїr's head felt like a horde of rhinos running his way ready to overrun him.

"I don’t need your help, Mal!" He shot and glanced up with furious eyes and knotted brows, only to regret his words immediately as he saw the way Malik cocked his left brow in this unmistakable sign of not wanting to deal with Altaїr's bullshit any longer before he wheeled the chair away even further. "Oh, come on! You're not very helpful! I knew you wanted to move in with me only so you can torture me!"

"You said you didn’t want help." Malik helpfully reminded him with a playful smirk on his face. Back when they had still been a couple this would be the introduction of a whole other kind of game they would play together.

"You know what I meant!"

"Yes… That’s exactly my problem." He sighed wheeling the chair closer again and crouching down next to him one more time. "I know you all too well and thus I am doomed, apparently. Come on now you useless idiot." And this time Altaїr let Malik help him into the chair. He was relieved as he was sitting again even though he tried not to show it as much. "What happened here anyway?"

"I fell out of the bed."

"No, you didn’t." Malik quietly disagreed. It was not like Altaїr was a terrible liar, only that Malik knew him too well to fall for his lies. "So what happened?"

Altaїr kept his quiet for a second longer before he finally rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I _tried_ to work out a bit. I figured, I would need my upper body strength from now on and I tried to do some pushups, but I failed tremendously. Satisfied now?"

"But your muscles are still sore from rehab yesterday I believe." Malik grinned sheepishly.

"It's not my fault that Connor is always overdoing it! He is way too motivated if you ask me."

"Yes, but no one really ever asks you, right? Connor is doing his best to get you back on track after you spend months doing nothing at all and letting your muscles and strength go to waste like this. You have a lot of work to do now, you have to build up your muscles again from scratch almost. It is not his fault that you were such an idiot. But until you are strong enough again, you cannot start your new rehab program too."

"So he torturing me like that is better." He concluded quickly and Malik simply rolled his eyes as an answer, because he, of course, knew how much Altaїr hated this.

"Apparently yes."

"My entire body hurts!" Well, at least the parts he could feel. "My back is completely sore!"

"Oh, you are always such a cry baby. Go take a hot bath then! Or do you want a massage?" Not even a deaf person would be able to not hear the mocking tone in Malik's deep rumbling voice.

"I would take the massage, but sadly there is no nice masseuse around here I'm afraid."

Malik silently laughed as he grabbed his left shoulder with his right hand, wearing only this ridiculous tight fitting black Shirt of his which Altaїr liked so much to see on him. It was only then that Altaїr noticed the way he smelled and looked really. He smelled heavenly of the eau de cologne he liked so much and which Altaїr, creative as he was, often gifted him for his birthday because he could not think of anything better. Malik had always been a man worrying a great deal about his appearance. He had always been groomed and nice to look at, but there was this certain aura around him now that Altaїr only recalled from the dates they went on. "I could call Connor."

"You could if you want him to kill me and break every bone in my body while doing it." Altaїr snorted and brushed his left hand through his unruly hair. Unlike Malik, he always looked a bit like a tramp or like something that had been run over by a truck and then dragged in by a hungry cat – in a good way, though.

"Or I could massage you?" Almost his heart skipped a beat. Almost he could hear his libido screaming in pain inside his mind.

"With one hand?"

"I can do more with just one hand than you would be able to achieve with five." And that he did not even doubt. Oh, he knew of what Malik was capable with just one hand.

Altaїr cocked his left brow in an attempt of mocking him but as always Malik did not fall for this. They knew each other too well and too long for Malik to fall for his mockery ever again apparently. "Prove it." He scoffed if only to see Malik's face when he would accept this gracious offer of him as another part of his mockery. But though a part of him was yearning for Malik's touch still, he was glad that his ex-boyfriend did not go through with this, because he did not know if he would be able to stand being touched by Malik again. And for what purpose anyway? Even if he would be able to forgive and forget, there was no reason in pursuing this path any further. He could not feel anything after all. Sure, Malik could still stick his dick into him if he liked it, but knowing Malik he would never do it unless Altaїr would enjoy it too. Their relationship was doomed before it would even get started.

Well, this was going a bit too fast anyway, he guessed.

And yet, being so close to Malik now every day, being around him so much as he was now, it was hard not to think about the past. It was hard not to think about all those hours they had spent curled into each other for comfort. It was hard not to think about his touches or kisses, hard to not think about just how sweet it had felt being so close to him, feeling him, breathing him, hearing him. This was torture, more even than anyone could imagine and he was curious if Malik felt the same way. Surely Malik liked to state that them living together again did not mean that they would get back together as a couple too, but… Well, did he really mean it?

Before all of this had started it had been easy to read Malik's mind, but now he was like a whole other person. Malik gently flipped his fingers against his forehead in a gesture that was way too familiar to Altaїr to not hurt him. "Sadly I cannot do this anyway." Malik then grinned as he looked around the room. Altair's bedroom was messy as always because he had no Malik to tidy it up any longer. Malik did not say anything of it, after all, he was an adult and he had to live in his filth as Malik liked to state.

"You cannot? Are you finally admitting that the great Malik Al-Sayf is incapable of doing something?"

"No, I just don’t have enough time."

"Oh? Are you going out? Did we forget to buy anything yesterday? It’s a bit late to go grocery shopping, isn’t it?" Altaїr wondered and slowly moved his wheelie a bit farther into the room again, even though his arms were screaming in pain.

Suddenly Malik seemed a bit more uncomfortable than he should be as he scratched his neck and averted his gaze to have a look outside Altaїr's big windows, which were overlooking their garden. "No, I'm going out for dinner actually."

"You mean … Like a date?" The word had a certain ring to it. A finality to the whole thing of their broken relationship. He wanted Malik to mock him for using it. He wanted him to explain that he was only meeting an old friend or colleague.

Malik scoffed but his eyes betrayed him. "I guess so." He then sighed and shrugged before turning towards Altaїr's door again. Malik was not a very good liar, or at least he was not in Altaїr's presence really. He wanted to not make a big deal out of it, but Altaїr knew Malik too well to believe that lie. "I don’t really know yet if it’s a date or not."

"But you hope it is." Altaїr immediately accused and bit his tongue the moment the words left his mouth for the sour ring they had. He sounded angry and jealous and he knew it. He also knew that Malik had heard this tone and that he chose to ignore it to not humiliate him further.

"I guess I do." Malik then stated, being the noble man he had always been. "Shall I call someone to keep you company while I'm away?"

"I don’t need company." He shot back with a dark glare, maybe even a bit too quick and sharp. It stung. It really did. He felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest to be thrown into a waist-bin like in this one episode of the Simpsons with Bart and his first crush. It was silly of course. Their relationship had ended almost a year ago. Of course, Malik would start dating again at one point. Apparently, Malik was not only getting over his injury but over Altaїr too and he was left behind in the mess he had created with this empty feeling clawing at him again. Being around Malik the last few weeks and starting to create a life inside this house again had suppressed this empty feeling inside at least a bit but now it came crushing down on him with all its force again. Malik would move on. He would see another person and fall in love and Altaїr would become a memory, a stain on the canvas of his past, nothing more. "I don’t need a babysitter." He added with a scowl and turned his wheelie around so he would not need to face Malik any longer but rather have a look outside to watch the slowly setting sun. "Take an umbrella, it's going to rain. Have fun."

He had to force out those words, he had to. He could not possibly show how hurt he was but of course Malik knew. He could hear it. He could sense it. But to his relief he did not act upon it. "Alright. There is still a bit Pizza from yesterday in the fridge." Malik stated before he finally left the room and closed the door behind himself.

It started to rain almost one hour later and almost two hours later the thunderstorm hit the city with loudly crashing thunder and blindingly light lightning. "So how do you feel about this?" The voice on the other end of the line carefully asked, sounding as though the person it belonged to was being threatened with a gun to their head. "I mean it was just a matter of time, really, wasn’t it?"

"I don’t want to talk about it. Malik and I are not together any more. He can fuck whomever he wants, Rauf." He did his best to make himself as comfortable as he could, although that was not an all too easy task at the moment. Suddenly his oh so beloved old sofa did not feel familiar to him any longer. There was no sense of _home_ within these walls. _Yet_ , as Malik had told him. Of course this feeling would only come with time, but Altaїr felt like he had felt in his old flat and he was ready to go back to his old habits one more time. Ridiculous, really. A few weeks had passed since they moved into this house, since he decided to beat up a few teenagers. He thought that he had made progress and all this progress was flowing out of his body as if it had never been there in the first place. And all this only because … Yes, why?

"You are jealous." Rauf was quick to state and he sounded worried. Altaїr absolutely hated this tone of his. Rauf had always been his _fanboy_ as Maria called it. He had always been around him, cheering him on, staring at him in awe, curious for Altaїr's opinion in every regard. Stupid, of course, but he did not like to feel as if Rauf was suddenly seeing that he was only human too, that he was vulnerable too. Of course he did not want him to look at him as though he was some kind of deity too! Only … Well, as long as Rauf was still the same and still looked at him the same he always did, he still felt at least partly like the Altaїr he had once been. Now this remaining part seemed to start to crumble too.

"I'm taking a bath now." Altaїr replied instead of answering Rauf's claim in anyway and before the other man could say anything else he ended the call. He did not even really know why he called Rauf after Malik left an hour ago in the first place. He just … Maybe he just had wanted to talk to someone. But then Rauf asked him about Malik and where he was and then one thing had lead to another. For a while Altaїr stared at his phone before dropping it onto the sofa cushion. Lifting himself into his wheelie was not easy. His muscles were sore after his failed attempt of making pushups and his elbows were shaking violently as soon as he put the least amount of strain onto them. Still, a bath sounded like a good plan, like the exact thing he now needed to get his head straight again.

Normally he was not fond of baths and of course this had only worsened after his crash for he had hardly been able to get into and out of the tub, but now they did have this fancy shower and bath combo in their new home, perfect for _handicapped_ people like him. He hated this word more than anything else in the world to be honest. He was still not fond of lying in the water at all, but at least it normally helped with muscle cramps and pain and he could get into and out of the tub by himself now. He did not need anyone to help him. Most certainly not Malik.

It took him only a few minutes to prepare the bath after he had undressed and got into the tub to close that little door of the tub and fill it with water. The tub had a small seat which could be folded away, but it was easier like this for showering of course. However, now Altaїr liked to lie in the tub and be fully enclosed in the water. He was tired of sitting. Feeling how the water slowly filled the tub made him a bit anxious. It was a weird feeling. A feeling as if he would drown maybe although he was in total control of the water rising inside the tub. However, it did not really feel as though he was in control because he simply never was. Not since the accident. Not since Malik's accident. Everything seemed to slip out of his control since then. He was only a leaf floating on the surface of a wild river and he could not control where the water would carry him.

Weird, how he had never really thought about Malik's love life after the crash. Maybe this was his egotistical nature seeping through, but after Malik's accident, after Kadar's death, after their breakup, he had not really thought about Malik moving on and having maybe even a new boyfriend. It was of course not because Malik lost his arm or because that would make him in any shape or form unattractive to other men now. Malik was still the handsome devil he had always been. Over these thoughts he almost forgot to turn off the water but when he did he sank deeper into the floods and closed his eyes slowly. Weird yes. Malik was good looking. Of course he would start dating again. He was still young. He was interesting. He was handsome. Of course it was only a matter of time until he would get back into the game. But the selfish child inside him was flabbergasted for even considering Malik could like anyone except him in that regard.

It had always been only him and Malik. And though it had came as a shock to him when Malik had first confessed to him that he liked him, all those years ago in the middle of the night at the skater park, it had felt only natural after he understood what he meant. It had always been the two of them against the rest of the world and within the blink of an eye everything he had thought to have felt for Maria had been gone. Of course it had not been that easy back then. Of course, he had only been sixteen and confused at his friend's confession. Of course he had struggled greatly at first, but today, ten years later, it felt as if everything had happened quite fast actually.

And now Malik was seeing another man.

Or was it a woman?

Did it matter?

 _Why of course it would,_ the voice inside his head reminded him as he sunk lower into the tub and felt the water closing over his face. _If he marries a woman he can have children and maybe even be forgiven by his father again. He could have everything he wants._ They had never talked about getting married or even having children, because both of it was not possible for them. At least not in this country. And even if they could have children … would they? Would _he_ want to have kids? Would Malik? And why was he even thinking about it? There was no reason to ever contemplate having children. He himself had no chance of having children of his own now anyway, right? Under water he opened his eyes and even though he had never quite mastered this technique, now it felt easy to him. Through the shimmering surface he could see the white ceiling of the bathroom and for a moment just listened to the sound of his own heartbeat loud in his ears. It was soothing in a way. Maybe he should force Malik to try and pursuit a new way without him. If they would keep it up like this now, they would never go their separate ways. _I don’t want to go separate ways anyway._ There it was again this nasty selfish little voice.

He closed his eyes again when they started to burn a bit and although he started to feel a bit dizzy, he did not want to get up just yet. He enjoyed the quietude under water, the pressure on his eardrums, the loud beating of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears and veins, the-

He was ripped from his little happy place by a rough hand pulling him to the surface with a sudden jolt that made his whole body grow insanely tense. "Altaїr! Are you alright?" He gasped and it took Altaїr only a second to really see how pale the man above him suddenly looked. Malik Al-Sayf had never been this white, never been this horrified when looking at him, not even when Altaїr had died his own hair pink without telling him to provoke Malik's father. He could only stare in shock at Malik while his brain still tried to register that it was indeed Malik looming over him like the personification of a raincloud.


	12. Chapter 12

Malik was wet. Literally soaking wet. His ink black hair hung loosely in thick shimmering strands in his forehead dripping with water. Apparently, all mighty and wise Malik had decided not to listen to his evidently more intelligent ex-boyfriend and had not taken an umbrella as Altaїr had advised him to earlier. Even his black shirt was soaked.

"What the hell, Altaїr! What did you do?" Malik hissed in anger and annoyance as he took a step back from the tub after he had just ripped him out of the water like a mad man.

"Taking a bath, what do you think I am doing? Thank you for interrupting my epiphany, though."

"I thought you were going to drown yourself!"

"And why should I ever do that?"

Malik moved back another step and just stared at him before suddenly he lowered his gaze. He looked most uncomfortable and finally it dawned on Altaїr. "Oh no, you can't be serious!" Suddenly it seemed their roles were reversed, for usually, it had always been Malik muttering those very words. "You did not think I would kill myself because you were dating another person, did you?"

"Well, no." Malik shrugged before he leaned his back against the wall opposite of the bathtub, looking like a man who started to question his life and his mindset all at once. "I mean … You were quite depressed lately and I … Well, I was worried."

"Why are you even back so quickly?" Altaїr groaned and brushed a hand through his wet hair. He did not want to discuss why Malik exactly had been worried for him taking a bath so much. He did not want to dwell on the fact that his ex-boyfriend really thought him to be suicidal only because he was moving on and meeting other people. Did Malik really think him to be such a whiny baby? Did he really think him to be so self-centered? "I thought you were on a date with Mr. Perfect."

With a sigh, Malik scratched his neck but instead of answering him, he gestured towards the tub. "Would you mind if I would join you?" Now looking at him and taking in his appearance fully, Altaїr had to say he was impressed how shitty his ex-boyfriend really looked. Of course outside a thunderstorm was raging and he was soaked to the core, but in addition to that Malik looked like a man who had just been to hell and back. He was thrilled to send him away, but then he sighed, grabbed the sides of the tub and pulled himself back a bit to make room.

It was a bit awkward sharing a tub filled with hot water and bubbles with his ex-boyfriend. It really was. Even before they had been a couple they had seen each other naked of course, whether it being in the shower after gym or when they had been little kids and had been forced to bathe together by Malik's mother because Altaїr had thought it to be a really good idea to play in a puddle of mud. Still, after years of being indeed a couple and knowing the other person's body by heart, this was really weird. Malik was actually cautious not to touch him in any way after he got in, which was quite idiotic considering that Altaїr would not even feel it if Malik's legs would touch his. Hell, even before they got together Malik had not been that cautious not to touch him when they had been naked in the shower room of their school! One good thing of knowing the other's body so well was that Altaїr was able to just look him in the eyes as if they were sitting fully clothed at a table. Then again Altaїr had never been a person too shy about his own nudity. He would even open the door naked – which he already had done in the past, startling more than one neighbor and Maria.

"So? Didn’t go well I assume?" Altaїr finally decided to end the silence between them as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"No, not at all." Malik huffed and seeing him miserable like this almost made Altaїr feel bad. Almost, because the nasty little voice in his head was still rejoicing. Malik sunk deeper into the water with a deep sigh and if he still could he would now cross his arms while he frowned, instead he rested his right arm on the side of the tub. "It was the worst date I ever had."

"You never had a real date." Altaїr was quick to remind him, helpful as he always liked to be.

"Of course I had." Malik frowned instead with a dark gloom resting upon Altaїr's face.

"Yes well, with me and that doesn’t count." Malik only rolled his eyes at this, but of course, he had to admit that this was true and so did Altaїr. They both had no experience in the great game of dating and as of now, Altaїr had never really wasted a second thought about it. He had had crushes before Malik, yes. He had had a crush on Maria for quite some time and even before that he had been interested in this one girl he had often seen at the park. But as for dating, no, there had never been anyone but Malik. They were each other's firsts in absolutely every sense of it. Maybe they had never been supposed to last forever because not many couples like they had been would last forever.

"I guess it doesn’t." Malik sighed and leaned back his head in exasperation.

"So what happened?"

"You don’t want to hear this."

"Oh but I do want to hear all the juicy details of your little love affair." Of course, he did not want to hear this.

"Are you sure?"

"Do you still think I wanted to kill myself because of the possibility that you might be going to like someone else? What am I? Twelve?" _Yes!_ The nasty voice whined. He did not want to hear any of this! He did not want to hear the details – especially not the juicy ones! He did not want to imagine Malik kissing someone else, touching someone else, fucking someone else! He did not want to imagine that Malik might find someone he could be happy with, happier than he had been with Altaїr, someone who still could feel their entire body! He did not want to share a bathtub with his ex-boyfriend and talk about said ex's sex life! "Now be out with it or I dunk you."

"Alright, alright." Malik grinned as he glanced at him out of those deep chocolate brown eyes Altaїr had always loved so much. Malik was a scary man for most strangers. He was tall and muscular and had a pretty frightening face when he was not smiling, but his eyes, no matter how hard their stare, were warm and friendly most of the time and they told every one of the noble heart behind them. Malik was one of the noblest men he had ever known, but he too had a monster inside his heart just like everyone had. "So we met online you know?"

"Oh Malik, no. Didn’t you learn anything from the horror movies I forced you to watch?" He exclaimed overly dramatic and Malik responded in splashing water at his face with a faint chuckle, reminding him painfully of their happier times.

"Oh, shush your face, I'm about to tell you a story you insolent fool." Malik smirked as he got Altaїr to grin with his words. "So we met online and talked for a bit. The usual story, you know the gist of it."

"No, Malik, I don't, because I never turned to online dating before. You see me shocked." Altaїr mocked, though it was a thin line to walk on. It was not easy to tell what joke could be made, what things could be said without them getting into a fight again or reminding each other of the way their relationship had fallen apart and what came out of it.

"Yes I know, because you only need to walk down the street to have people swoon."

"Well, what can I do? I'm just irresistible!"

"Of course you are." Malik scoffed and gently kicked his leg. Although Altaїr did not feel the kick he laughed a little. "So anyway. He said he was about my age, he was really nice too, good looking on the pictures and stuff."

"So?"

"He was a girl."

"A girl?"

"Yes. I went to the bar we wanted to meet at and when I got there I saw _him_ sitting at a table waiting. So I walked up to him, and he … Well, he got up and told me straight to my face that he was not gay and that his sister took his picture to fool around on the internet."

Altaїr really did not want to burst out laughing. He tried not to. But in the end, he could not stop himself. Malik, however, did not get angry; instead, he joined his laughter as he drove a hand through his hair.

"Maybe online dating is not for me." He laughed. "I didn’t even eat! I felt so embarrassed that I have fallen for a teenage girl and her weird fantasies! And then Rauf called me and told me you said you wanted to take a bath. He was scared to death, you can't even imagine! Oh my god… What a disaster!"

"Well, you are just too old for adventures like these." Altaїr chuckled, as he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. He could not deny it. Suddenly he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Still, the danger remained. Malik could still fall for someone else. Well, then again, why shouldn’t he?

※※※※※

"Why pink?" This seemed to be the eternal question of his life. _Why pink_. It was a question not many knew the answer to, but a question many people were asking themselves or the people around them, a question Malik even asked him, when Altaїr had once decided to dye his hair pink to annoy Malik's father and the very few answers one would be able to get, would surely differ from the perspective of the person giving it. To Altaїr it was a question that would never find a satisfying answer and he would surely die still not knowing it.

"Sorry, I ran out of the black and blue tapes." Oh, Connor Kenway, this naïve fool. "I could get an Edding and start painting them black if you insist."

"Why are you not using the pink ones on yourself?" Altaїr found himself frowning. It was not as if he would actively discriminate against the color pink or as if he absolutely hated it, but it was a matter of pride for him right now - and a tiny bit born from jealousy.

"Because I didn’t know that I was running out of the black ones. Sorry, mate." Connor chuckled and still knew no mercy with him, while he proceeded to do his work.

"You cannot fool me, Connor. We both know that you are enjoying this."

"How did you even do this, Altaїr?" Well, Connor would never admit that he _was_ indeed enjoying this situation, after all, he was the _good guy_ and that meant he would of course never rejoice in someone else's misery. "I mean really. Yesterday I sent you home fully well and functioning and now you are broken again and I have to repair you. What happened?"

"Nothing." Surely his cousin thought they had left this phase of Altaїr getting injured and needing his big cousin to stitch him back together behind them after he was sitting in a wheelchair now. Well, apparently Connor had been wrong.

"Yes of course and you hurt your shoulder by doing nothing because that just something that happens, right?"

"Exactly." He did not even blush lying to the older male.

"I wonder what Malik might tell me if I would ask him about your condition. Maybe I should just call him, what do you think?" Still, a big grin lingered on Connor's tanned face. He really was a good-looking man, though maybe a bit frightening to other people who did not know this friendly giant, but his smiles usually had the capacity to light up an entire room. He did not smile often, though.

"Yes well, ask him."

"I will."

"You see me shaking with fear." Altaїr smirked. He had never liked being the youngest of his family. Even Connor was older than him and this simply did not feel right to him, even now that he was technically an adult. Connor however only grinned and smoothed out the last piece of tape that he put on Altaїr's shoulder. Last day's workout had been a bit too much as it seemed now. "So when do you think I can try this wheelchair-skating you told me about?"

Connor's dark eyes glistened with joy as his younger cousin finally asked him that very question. A step in the right direction, that was what Connor surely thought, Altaїr guessed and maybe he was right. Connor had introduced the idea of this sport to him a while ago already after Altaїr got his new wheelchair, but of course, Altaїr had not wanted to hear any of it at first. Now, on the other hand, he started to revisit this concept slowly but surely and he started to understand, that it was about time, he would start to move on. He would never walk again, so since he would sit in this chair for the rest of his life, why not making the best out of it? At least he could try. At least he could try and get a little bit out of all this tragedy still. The least he could do was to try and bargain with his fate to get a better deal, to become an active participant in his own life again. He was done being wheeled around in his chair. He was done being the one who was depended on other people and he was done being looked upon with pity in the eyes of his friends and family. "As soon as your shoulder is fully healed again. Shall I contact the leader of this group already or should I wait a bit longer?"

"No, call him. Tell him I want to start this as soon as possible. I cannot just sit around all day and do nothing." And a job, he thought. He would need a new job already. Of course, he could always go back to the Bundeswehr and start a career at the office just like Malik had, but somehow he could not bring himself to do just that. He did not want to be involved with those people any longer, he did not want their looks of pity on him. Malik was stronger than him in this regard. He did not care if people pitied him, he just did his work and did not bother with those people. Well, then again he had not got injured doing his work, right? Altaїr on the other hand … Well. When his colleagues would look at him at the office, all they would see was his plane going off in flames. He had been famous for his skills and now he was just another dude who overstepped his boundaries and paid the price for his arrogance in the process. He was just another dude who thought himself invincible only to be confronted with his own mortality and limits.

"Alright then. So, how are things with Malik?" Connor smiled as he went to tidy up the mess he made with the sports tape. Of course, Altaїr did not really mind that the tape he sported now around his shoulder was indeed pink while he could see a few stripes of black tape underneath Connor's muscle shirt. He could not care less if the tape was pink or blue or had yellow polka dots on it. But he always liked to tease Connor just a tiny bit.

"What do you mean?" Connor usually was not the person to ask about his relationship, not because he would not care or because he would not like it, but because Connor himself always tried to stay out of this kind of territory out of lack of experience, as he liked to state.

"Well, Maria said that Rauf told her that you were quite upset when Malik wanted to date someone else the other day. She said that Rauf was so upset after your conversation over the phone, that he even called Malik because he thought you would drown yourself in the bathtub." There was a faint smirk on Connor's lips at the last part, simply because it was still so very ridiculous - especially when said out loud.

"I wasn’t upset and Malik is not dating someone else."

"Not yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what I told you just now." Of course, one could always trust Connor Kenway to say what was on his mind. "He will start dating again eventually and he will find someone to love again and I know that this is what you think too. It's only a matter of time and just as he moves on from your relationship, you should too."

Suddenly there was this anger again bubbling up inside Altaїr, ready to go up in flames and burn everything in his wake. "Look who's talking! The twenty-nine-year-old virgin! Connor, really, you better stick to your profession and leave those things to people who actually have experience with it."

He did not care for the hurt look in Connor's eyes – mainly because he knew that Connor was not hurt because of the insult he had thrown at him. Connor did not care that he was a virgin or if anyone would throw this at him as an insult. If anything Connor was strong and unimpressed by those petty attempts of hurting him in any way. Unlike Altaїr, Connor Kenway was quite steady in his persona and his life. He knew exactly who he was and what his life was. There was no way to ever uproot him in any way, but yet Connor seemed a bit angry when Altaїr wheeled his chair towards the door. "Anyway, just call this dude, I'm going home now." Altaїr muttered as he left the room. He knew full well that he had acted just like a jealous kid would. He had attacked Connor because he did not like the thought of Malik going out with anyone but him. Yes, it was the truth. He could not stand the sole possibility and yet there was no way for them to ever go back to their relationship, was there? Too much had happened between them. There was just too much hurt.

Dwelling on the past would not help them or anyone else. It would just make everything even harder. They would not go anywhere. Moving in together had been maybe the biggest mistake of their lives! And yet Altaїr found calm in the sole fact that Malik was in the same house when he would lie in his bed and relive the moments of the accident once again. It helped him to know that Malik was just on the other side of the hallway to calm him when the nightmares got him tossing in his bed, but at the same instant, it pained him. Because knowing that Malik was just on the other side of the hallway was also a constant reminder of the fact that Malik was not in his bed any longer, that he could not snuggle up to him any longer, that he could not tease him with his cold feet in the middle of the night or start talking to him because he could not find sleep. It was a constant reminder of what he had lost and could not get back.

Moving in together definitely had been a mistake, as he later found out, when he came back home to find Malik walking around the house topless. Back in the day, he might not have looked twice at his former boyfriend because Malik would walk around topless or even naked. Well, maybe he would have stared if Malik would have been walking around naked, but that was more of Altaїr's kind of thing, especially during summer. Now, however, he caught himself staring as Malik just prepared a cup of coffee apparently unconscious of Altaїr staring at his muscular back. Tiny beads of Sweat were slowly running down his spine and his ink black hair looked wet and tousled and needed a cut again. Apparently, he had just ended his daily workout program. Of course, his ex-boyfriend was still doing a lot for his body. He had always been the more focused and self-conscious of them and although Altaїr had always been quite a freak for fitness, he was a lazy bum too. He had enjoyed working out with Malik, though, he had enjoyed going on a run with him, but he had never done it alone or because he thought he would need it.

Now, however, he found himself mesmerized by the way Malik's muscles were flexing while he was just preparing coffee. Even during this simple task, he looked like the statue of a Greek god, chiseled out of a block of perfect white marble. This fucking bastard. It felt like torture being with Malik again, being forced to watch his well-defined body like this and to not have the means of going back to where they left off. A part of him was still craving Malik's presence and his touch, but there was still the little voice inside his mind telling him that they broke up for a reason and that reason was not just Malik's behavior towards him or his injury. He needed to keep reminding himself of everything that had gone down, on everything that had been bad between them.

He guessed it was only normal that one wanted to purposefully remember just the good parts of a relationship and not so much the bad ones. "You do know how creepy it is when you stare at me like this, right?"

Altaїr almost flinched. He had zoned out so much while staring at Malik's muscular back, that he had not even noticed that Malik had turned around with his coffee mug in his hand. Altaїr remembered how aggressive Malik used to get after his accident whenever he found his boyfriend staring, always thinking Altaїr would stare at his stump in disgust or pity, even though he had not. Now, however, he seemed to be a lot calmer and unfazed by this staring of his. Originally Altaїr wanted to answer something witty and funny as he got caught like this and back in the day he might have even said something to tease Malik a bit, instead he just shrugged his shoulders in discomfort now. Before everything had gone to shit he had felt like Malik's equal in every sense of the word. He had never felt any kind of discomfort around him, never thought that Malik might not find him attractive or could be thrown off by some minor flaw of his, but now everything was different. He had to look up at Malik all the time, he was bound to that stupid chair. Who in their right mind would find this attractive?

He wanted to ask Malik if he thought that their relationship would have ended anyway eventually. He wanted to know if Malik thought that they would still be together if none of those awful things had happened to them. Would they still be happy, if Kadar would not have died, if Malik would not have lost his arm if he would not have crashed his plane? But he did not ask him because he knew Malik's answer. There had been so many problems in their relationship. Not just Malik's father being an absolute asshole towards them because he could not get it into his stubborn head that his son was gay, but career wise as well. Gay men were still not very accepted in the army, not even in a country like Germany, which was quite open in that regard usually – especially in Cologne. Of course, they never rubbed it in anyone's faces, but the majority of their colleagues had known even though they had not been in the same unit anyway. And then there was this constant fear of losing one another when one of them needed to leave for a few months. In the beginning, this was what had glued them together even more, but eventually, it had grown to be a great burden instead.

They had started to see each other less and less and the fear of losing one another had become so daunting and oppressing that it had been hard to function and Altaїr knew that it was not just him who had felt like this. Every time they saw each other after being apart for weeks or months, they had started arguing about the most inane and silly things. A part of him had been glad even as Malik had lost his arm and thus had been taken out of the active duty. It was much less to worry about. Maybe it was selfish for he himself had kept working like this, being off on duty all the time, flying his plane over bombed cities. He had not needed to worry about Malik any longer, but the worry still weighed heavily on Malik's shoulders – even though Altaїr thought that Malik had hated him so much after his accident that he would have been glad if Altaїr would have died during combat.

"Since when are you creeped out when I'm staring?" Altaїr finally answered but Malik had already noticed his reluctance to talk, which was evident by the way he was lifting both his brows – never a good sign, as he liked to casually remind himself. "I mean you always liked it when I stared at you, right?"

"So did Connor put the pink tape on you purposefully to annoy you or did you ask for it?" Malik replied before he took a casual sip of his surely boiling hot coffee as if it had already cooled off.

"Do you think this living-together-thing here will work for us?" He blurted out without really thinking about it. Now was definitely not the right time to discuss something like this, but still, he felt the need to do exactly that because there would never he the right time to discuss this. And why should he wait anyway? For what?

"I don’t know." Malik answered with a half-smile. Well, at least he was honest. "It could work out."

"At least until one of us will start dating again and get in a serious relationship." Of course, he did not think that this was going to happen to him, but Malik, well, he still had every chance in the world to find love.

"So you really were jealous, right?" Malik replied instead of commenting on his statement. Well, then again Altaїr did not know himself what he could say anyway. No matter what he would say to Malik, there was no way to make Malik believe that he had not been jealous, for that was exactly the truth. Yes, he had been jealous, yes, he had been angry, yes, he had been sad and frightened and had felt hollow inside thinking that Malik could find someone else. Someone, who was not useless like him, someone who could still function, someone who could still give him what he wanted and needed. He had been afraid that Malik would forget about their past and all the good things they had shared together in their long, long past.

Who was he, when the man he had loved the most, would forget about him? What was going to be left of him when Malik would forget about him? If Malik would start to forget about him, everyone else would do too and then he would dissolve into nothingness. "I just meant, if you would find a new partner, I am sure that he won't like it that you live with your ex, that’s all."

"Same could be true the other way around. What if your future partner wouldn’t like it that you and I are living together?" For a moment Altaїr was taken a bit by surprise if he would be honest with himself. The way Malik asked that question, this matter of fact attitude as if it was only logical that Altaїr too could find a new boyfriend, really surprised him. He did not quite know if Malik really thought that this was a possibility or if he just said it because he wanted him to feel his equal again.

"How should I ever find anyone who put up with _this_?" He had not planned on asking that question, really. He had wanted to keep it locked in his head. He did not want that anyone around him would see how insecure he was since he was sitting in that bloody chair. Malik did not step closer as he maybe had expected him to, instead he saw him leaning back against the kitchen counter and heard how he slurped his coffee.

"You're still attractive." Malik offered after a moment with a smirk. "We are both handicapped, so why should I find a new boyfriend and you won't? I think we are still looking damn fine, don’t you? Well, then again not with that pink tape."

Altaїr lowered his gaze onto his numb knees to hide a small smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Maybe I was a bit jealous."


	13. Chapter 13

He should have expected it to turn out like this, he guessed. Well, then again, he _had_ expected this outcome, if he would be honest with himself, which he usually liked to be anyway. He had known that his friendship with Altaїr would surely come to an end if he would ever confess to his idiot best friend how he felt about him. Still, expecting something to happen and then seeing the results of it were two very different things, as he was now forced to appreciate, sitting in the usual stinky classroom with all those other people around him.

Malik was quite sure that his classmates were looking a little funnier at him than usually, since his confession to Altaїr a few days ago, but surely that was purely his overactive imagination. It was later that week, that it turned out it was not just his imagination. Indeed, they were staring at him with an odd fascination; some seemed even a bit more weirded out by him than usually - which his little brother so wonderfully remarked at one point as they were walking home from school. After almost two weeks, Kadar even stopped complaining that they would not walk home with Altaїr anymore. Instead, Kadar began to inform Malik at every given opportunity, that he must have done something horribly wrong to turn Altaїr against him like that. His brother, however, was truly the last person on the planet he wanted to talk about this with.

Kadar was simply not good with keeping secrets. He would get stressed out so much that he would literally stop functioning in a normal way, which would alarm their parents, which would lead to Kadar spilling out Malik's dirty, dark secret, which would lead to Malik being stoned to death by his stern father or just thrown out of the house - whichever his parents thought to be more suitable to the situation at hand.

Needless to say that Altaїr had avoided him since this god awful night at the skate park. He hung around Maria even more than before and Malik, although he was adamant to deny it, felt terribly frustrated because of it. It turned out, that the entire school seemed to know that there was something going on between the usually inseparable Syrian boys and so the entire school, teachers and pupils alike, seemed to always hold their breaths when the two boys came face to face during breaks on the hallways of the building, as if they were waiting for the big storm to come.

"I think this is childish." Maria scolded him as the third week of this weird period started. Some people in their class seemed to start feeling uneasy around him and Rauf even said Malik would have this weird gloomy aura around him, which would keep others from approaching him. This was nothing all too new, but it seemed more worrisome than normally to his friends.

He missed Altaїr - that was the sad truth. He missed being around him. He missed talking to him. He missed having him call him in the middle of the night so Altair could ramble on about his newest stupid idea. He missed just being close to him, sitting around and just don’t talk at all. He missed him. And he was angry with himself for having told Altaїr about his feelings. Why the hell could he not just have kept quiet about it? Why had he said anything at all? Suffering alongside Altaїr and seeing him getting rejected by Maria would have been better than not being with him at all! He should have known Altaїr would react this way! Still, he hadn't. Altaїr was quite open-minded after all! He had just never assumed Altaїr would be grossed out by this. What a grave mistake, he thought.

"Malik, really, it would help if you would not always zone out like this and try to focus for once. We need to finish this stupid project!" Maria was that kind of girl who would not shy away from pinching one of her best friends if she deemed it necessary to get them to focus, and that she proved now as they sat in the middle of the empty hallways hunched over their poster. For once Malik was glad that Maria had chosen to team up with him for this project, because just like Malik himself, Maria was quite the tidy person. It was their task to put together information about Goethe's _The Sorrows of Young Werther_ for their German class - or more specifically about Werther's relationship with Charlotte. Usually, Altaїr and he would work on a team together, which always was a nuisance to Malik when it came to a project like this because of the messy nature Altaїr liked to portray. He did not even own a ruler.

"I'm not zoning out." Malik hummed quietly as he shortly glanced at her, but Maria already went back to her task of drawing another very straight and accurate line - without a ruler. Marvelous.

"Yes, you do. And if it's still because of your fight with Altaїr, you should just go and talk to him about it. I'm sure he will apologize if you do."

"We don’t have a fight. And what makes you think that he would be the one that needed to apologize anyway?"

"Because he usually is, duh." With that, Maria threw her pencil into her pencil case and stood to have a look at their poster from a bigger distance. "I think we can finish this tomorrow. I need to get going now. Piano lessons." Even though she was making a face saying those words, it was clear to Malik that she secretly enjoyed these lessons. Still, Malik answered her grimace with one of his own, before he rolled up the poster and got to his feet himself. Kadar was already home and there was no need for him to hurry now anyway, mainly because he wanted to avoid seeing Altaїr on the way through their neighborhood, but he escorted Maria nonetheless.

"But really, Malik, you should talk to him again." She gently tugged at his left ear, as they walked through the main exit of the school building and walked out into the sunshine, a worried look plastered on her face. She really was pretty and if he wouldn’t be gay, maybe he would have fallen for her as well. A part of him could indeed understand Altaїr, but since he was still a kid, he decided that he still could allow to let jealousy take over once in a while. "School just doesn’t feel right when you two are not together, you know?"

"Now you're just being melodramatic." Malik sighed before he nudged her shoulder so she would move again. They were only halfway across the yard as Malik heard the whistle behind him and felt how he grew tense immediately.

"Hey, Gaylord!" Abbas. Of course, it had to be Abbas and his idiot friends. Since kindergarten their relationship had been quite strained, to put it mildly. Maria stopped beside him and turned around to face Abbas and his usual group of friends - of which Malik didn’t even know all the names with exception of Swami.

"What did you just say?" Maria shot back at Abbas, even though Malik was already tugging at her right upper arm.

"I think your friend there hears me just fine." Abbas laughed and his friends chimed in like a bunch of hyenas. "Or does gayness impact hearing too? What's up Malik? Broken up with your boyfriend? You seem so down lately and Altaїr avoids you like the plague, so what's going on there? Have you cheated on him?" He felt heat creeping up his spine - but surely not because he would feel any kind of embarrassment. He had never talked to Maria about his feelings for Altaїr, let alone that he was not interested in women. He had never deemed it necessary and he had never much cared if she could possibly resent him for that or not. To him, everything of matter had been Altaїr's reaction, whenever he started thinking about telling his friends everything.

Even now he couldn’t care less if Maria would be disgusted with him. The gossip was not new of course, thanks to idiots like Abbas using every opportunity to blackmail his enemies and gladly no one had ever really given them too much credit. Altaїr had been easy to provoke with comments like these, but Malik had never felt attacked by them. Every time he had just brushed them off as nonsense to prove how great of a person, how mature of a man he was. Now, however, even Maria could not stop him, as he whirled around and bridged the distance between the spot he had previously stood and Abbas with stomping feet.

When he was seriously _pissed_ , as Kadar would say it, he was like a force of nature, like a wave crashing down on the shore and destroying everything in its wake. And now it was Abbas who would get to experience this.

It didn’t come to this.

No matter how much Malik would have liked to say that he would have punched Abbas in front of everyone who was still out in the yard or looking outside some classroom window - it never came to this. Before he could even bring his raised fist near Abbas' face, there was a voice booming over the yard, echoing from the walls of the school building as the owner of the voice came striding up towards the group with long determined steps. "What the fuck is going on here?" Altaїr bellowed and his face left no question about his mood.

Abbas, seemingly a bit relieved to have escaped Malik's wrath so suddenly, whirled around to face Altaїr as the young teenager came closer. A big mistake as it turned out just a second after he had made the mistake of opening his dumb mouth. "I just asked your fuckboy over there if-" It was then when Altaїr did what Malik had wanted to do. His right fist collided heavily with Abbas' face - so heavily in fact that Abbas stumbled backward and fell straight on his ass.

To Malik's biggest surprise, though, Altaїr did not stop. He was like a raging bull seeing red, as he kept walking straight towards Malik and almost Malik thought that he was the next one to get punched by Altaїr - probably for the rumors, probably he was seriously afraid some people could believe those rumors. He did not shrink back, though. He stood his ground, staring at Altaїr just as darkly as Altaїr stared at him, ready to fight him if his former best friend would really make the mistake of getting their fight onto the next level just because his pride could not handle that Malik was in love with him.

As Altaїr grabbed him by the collar of his black T-Shirt, Malik was ready to sucker punch the shit out of the other boy as he had done before whenever it had been necessary to beat some sense into Altaїr's thick skull. His world, however, was not shaken up by a punch und turned upside down by a kick. His world started to crumble as Altaїr suddenly pulled him closer only to push his lips onto Malik's in an all demanding kiss.

※※※※※

There was no going back. He knew this. Of course, he did. More than enough time had passed since everything had gone to shit to let the reality of this sink in. There was no going back. There was no way of reconciliation. There was no way to get back what he had lost. The café around him was lively as ever when he would come here and almost it felt as it had before everything went to shit. The people were still laughing and chatting their days away, the cups and glasses were still silently clinking when placed on the tables or saucers, the chairs still made the very same scraping sounds when they were being dragged over the tiles, sunlight was still streaming through the big windows from outside where he still could see the people of the neighborhood walk by on their daily routine of going about their own business, with not a care in the world for the stranger in the wheelchair sitting near the bar, where his father was busy as usual with making coffee or cleaning up.

Being here and seeing all of this, had always calmed him down a little because of the familiarity attached to every little process and detail. But now, well, everything seemed to fail to calm him. "You know, son, I don’t get why you don’t talk to Malik." His father sighed before he placed a cup of coffee down on the wood in front of him. It was not easy to reach sometimes, but his father made sure that he could without spilling everything. He had not even asked his father for coffee, but he guessed that this was just what his father did if he did not know what else to do.

"I don’t know what you are talking about, _father_."

"I mean, you insolent child, that everyone can see that you still love him. I'm sure even he sees it. And everyone can see that he still loves you. So I don’t understand the problem you two are making out of the situation, you know? You are living together again and you are both making progress if you ask me. So why do you sit here and let him go out with another guy? Instead of sulking and brooding you should go and talk to him and just say that you don’t like this."

"What right do I have to do something like that, dad? I'm not his boyfriend anymore and I do not have the right to forbid him to date someone else if that is what he desires. And even if I had, what good would it be for us to be together again? We do not have a future, you know?"

"I get it. You still feel guilty for the accident and for everything that had happened afterward. I understand that-"

"What do you understand, dad? No, you don’t get it. Malik got in a car crash because of me. He lost his arm because of me, he lost Kadar because of me, and he even lost his parents because of me." He did his best to keep his voice down, even though he really wanted to yell.

"The accident was not your fault and what came out of it wasn’t your fault either." And of course his father tried to calm him, of course, his father tried to pretend that none of this was his fault.

"But if I wouldn’t have gone out that day to compete with Abbas-" He broke off and drove a hand through his hair before he finally grabbed his cup and drank a sip of the scalding hot liquid. "I slept with another guy, that night." It felt weird telling this his own father, but since he and his father always had quite an open relationship, he thought there was no point in continuing to lie, even though his father would be disappointed to hear that. "I … I won against Abbas and my pals dragged me to this party. I got drunk and there was this dude… Malik and I were always fighting and I just did it. And then, in my drunken brain, I had the bright idea to call him to pick me up. He has every right in the world to hate my guts and yet he doesn’t. How in the world am I ever able to make amends?"

For a moment his father pretty much looked like he wanted to beat his son with a stick. His father was a very modern, very moderate, very loving, kind hearted and gentle man. _But_ there had been times his lovely ice-cream, cake and coffee selling father had indeed slapped him and mostly for good reason too! His father usually would never retreat to violence, but sometimes even to him, it seemed to be necessary to get his insolent son in check again and rightfully so, as Altaїr was quite aware. Now certainly was such a moment. However, his father did not hit him over the head with the first thing he could grab and he did not say that he was disappointed with him because of what Altaїr had done, he just looked at him the way that made it painfully clear that he was disappointed. Altaїr knew right away what his father would say if he would open his mouth. Something along the lines of _I thought I raised you to be an honest man, son_ , for sure. Well, and he was right, wasn’t he? His father had always done his best to make an honest man out of him, a faithful man who would never hurt anyone and rather step away from a relationship than cheating on someone he loved.

This night with a man he did not even know the name of, would forever be stuck in his head. "Does Malik know this?" His father said as he cleared his throat and turned around to make coffee a little angrier than before.

"Of course… I told him as soon as I got the chance. I didn’t want to keep it a secret and I felt terrible because of it and because of the accident. It serves me right that I'm sitting in this chair now." He groaned. Well, he deserved everything he got after Malik's accident. He deserved every mean comment, every argument, every fight with Malik. After all, it was entirely his fault. Malik had told him not to go and he had not listened. If only he had listened.

This time, his father did not show mercy as he reached over the counter and pulled at his right ear until he winced in pain. "I don’t want to hear you talk like this, Altaїr." His father rarely called him by his name like this. He was satisfied with using nicknames for his son and only ever called him Altaїr when he was getting serious, but that did not mean Altaїr had to care or even look like he cared. "I told you before, everything happens for a reason, son. Allah is good; he knows what he is doing. You are not being punished by sitting in this chair. Every man makes mistakes and you tried to redeem yourself in staying with Malik, trying to fix this relationship and being honest with him until you were thrown out of the flat. That you are now confined to a wheelchair does not mean the end of the world. You can still do great things. You can still have a great career and you and Malik still have the chance of getting back together."

But the question remained if they should ever get back together at all. Maybe their relationship had been poisonous right from the start, but maybe it only grew to fail with the years. Anyhow, maybe he was just not the person Malik needed as a partner from now on. Maybe _Malik_ was not the partner he needed from now on. And maybe, just maybe, he should start concentrating on his own life more than anything else. He did not need anyone to tell him that he was battling with depression. He knew this himself quite well actually. It was hard not to notice when the whole world seemed dull where it had been vibrating before, it was hard not to notice when everything was dark where it had been light before. How should he ever find the strength to care for and love someone, while he was battling with his own demons? There was so much guilt weighing him down, so much desperation clinging to him and not a single tiny chance of redemption as it seemed.

He did not even finish his coffee before he put the cup down again and pulled his father from his most recent thoughts with the clatter of the porcelain. He and his father looked very much alike and yet it seemed Altaїr had gotten more of his mother's features, now that he really looked at his father and was faced with his gentle, brown eyes. "I think I'm off now." He muttered and his father immediately put away the glass he had been polishing to walk around the counter so that he could wheel him out, but Altaїr stopped him with a gesture of his left hand.

"Where are you going?" His father asked and of course, Altaїr could hear the worry in his voice. He could not even blame him for worrying, not after everything that had happened lately. He was not stable, after all. Another bad day, another setback, another hit and he would maybe throw himself from a bridge – well, that would not be all too practical he guessed.

"I'm meeting up with Connor. He said he wanted to show me something."

As he left the café he could almost feel his father's worried gaze on his back, but he left anyway. He met Connor in front of the community pool, which was mostly used by athletes in their area. The building was nothing too special to look at and Altaїr dreadfully remembered the days he had gone here with his classmates for swimming lessons. He had always been quite afraid of water and although he was usually quite good at all kinds of sports and always the one at the top in their gym class he had failed miserably during swimming lessons. Malik, however, was a water rat.

He did not need to wait long until Connor came running from the parking lot. Usually, he was getting everywhere by foot or bike, so it was quite odd to Altaїr that he now came with his car. It was almost a bit suspicious to Altaїr, but not as suspicious as being in front of this building of his nightmares. Connor wore the biggest, sunniest smile on his face anyone could imagine, as he reached Altaїr's side and clasped his shoulder. "You really came!" He huffed. "Wonderful! Let's go inside, shall we?"

He was the only one in his circle of friends and family who did not always want to wheel him around but let him do it himself, which was much appreciated, especially now that he did not want to go inside. "What do you want in there?" Altaїr asked with a narrowed chin as he looked up at him as if ready to jump him in an attack.

"Swimming! What else?" Connor exclaimed with glistening eyes.  Just another water-rat, but that was to be expected after he had spent great portions of his life on various ships with his grandfather, a passionate seafarer.

"Well, if you want to go swimming, then why am I here?" Altaїr huffed as he grabbed the wheels a little tighter.

"Because _we_ are going to go swimming."

"I can't swim."

Connor laughed and has not even the decency to try not to when an adult man told him that he could not swim. "Well, I know. Everyone knows. It's time you'll learn it."

"No, what I meant is that I'm sitting in a fucking wheelchair, Connor." Altaїr reminded him with a theatrical gesture towards his wheels, but Connor did not really seem impressed even in the slightest.

"So?"

"How am I supposed to swim like this?"

"You'll be surprised. Come on. Give it a go." Connor started urging him again, like a puppy begging for food. "Maybe they even got floaties for you for the start. My dad bought me Winnie-the-Pooh floaties when I learned how to swim. He made me wear them until I was eight because he thought I might drown if he would not be attentive enough, even though I was quite a good swimmer already."

"You know, if you really wish to kill me, you could just – I don’t know – shove me off a cliff? Or let me roll into the lake? We've got a perfectly fine lake for these sorts of things." He knew of course that Connor would get his way no matter what. "I don’t even have trunks."

"Don’t worry, I got a pair for you. Malik was so kind to lend me his. They should fit."

"And what if they don’t?" Of course, he was just buying time.

"Well, then you go naked. It's quite early, there shouldn’t be many people around. Not that you would ever have minded anyway if people saw you naked." Well, Altaїr knew of course, that he could not stand a chance against Connor as long as the wolf had a vision stuck in his head and that vision now was to drown him apparently. Well, at least then everything would be over at once, as he would sink to the bottom of the pool like a stone. A very tragic little stone.

The smell of chlorine was filling his nose and his brain with memories of his youth after Altaїr had changed into Malik's trunks and wheeled himself out of the changing rooms. They did not fit him perfectly, for his hips were a smidgen wider than Malik's, but it would suffice, he thought, grateful that Malik's taste in clothes was still the same and resonated among dark colors anyway.

He could not help, but to stare at some of his scars, standing out in thin white lines on his sun kissed skin, telling the tale of his various accidents, but most prominently, of course, of his crash. His right leg was one large scar as it seemed, where it had been cut open by scraps of metal clinging to his skin as he was dragged out of the wreck. His left foot too was a total mess, covered in thin scars crisscrossing all over his skin in a weird kind of pattern. He never quite cared for scars, because he always thought scars could tell stories about their owners and made the people owning them a bit more interesting – but those scars told a story he would much rather forget. He thought about the one time he had been injured quite badly during combat training and the way Malik had found joy in drawing on his naked skin around the scar that had been left behind by the injury on rainy Sunday afternoons. He had painted beautiful lines onto his skin, covering the scar Altaїr often frowned upon. He would have a lot to do now if he would try that again. Maybe he should get tattooed over those scars. He was not quite fond of needles, though.

"There you are." Connor hummed approvingly, as Altaїr slowly maneuvered his wheelie out of the narrow hallway that clearly was not made for wheelchairs at all, and entered the pool. Connor was right, so early in the day in the middle of the week, there were not many people around. There were a few old ladies in the water, holding on to the railing of the pool and chatting the day away, two professional looking swimmers and one man in the diving pool. It was a quiet day, but then again this community pool was not nearly as well visited as the _Aqualand_ half a mile outside the center of Chorweiler. Here people came when they wanted exercise - and really … who would prefer that over a fun day with slides and bubbles?

Seeing Connor in trunks always was impressive. Sometimes it was cute that Connor would not even notice the way people stared at him - especially now. Altaїr, on the other hand, could very well see the young woman - the lifeguard - staring at him from her little tower. Well, Connor was nicely built, he had to admit, but since they were related in some way or the other, Connor was of course off limits for him!

"Did you think I would run off?" He sighed heavily as he came closer to the edge of the pool where Connor still stood and waited for him. At least Connor had the decency to not answer that question, instead, he only smirked a little sheepishly. "Jeez … I'm not that much of a coward, you know? I am- I was a soldier after all. So how are we going to do this now? Shall I just let myself fall in and hope not to drown or…?"

"Well, technically, you still _are_ a soldier, Altaїr. You're just not active any longer, just like Malik, but Malik seems pretty happy with his desk job." Connor replied with a frown but was wise enough to continue quickly. "Your trainer will be here any second now."

"Trainer?" Altaїr huffed and eyed his cousin suspiciously one more time from head to toe. "I thought we were doing this alone." He would not talk about this desk job thing again, after having discussed this endlessly before with everyone who thought it was their right to interfere. A desk job might be something Malik could come to terms with and learn to enjoy, but he? No. This was not for him. He needed adrenalin, he needed action in his life, otherwise, he was just going to … Well, what? He would go back to the state he had been in when Malik visited him all those weeks ago in his dirty apartment. After all, it was not as if he were not aware of the state he was in still and that the depression was still clinging to him, sinking its claws into his flesh and bones without mercy… Of course, he was aware.

"I am hardly qualified for this job, Altaїr. No, I'm just here so that I could make sure you would get your ass in here. If you like me to, I can come along next time too."

"Next time? What do you mean _next time_?"

"He means our next appointment, two days from now precisely." A voice chirped behind him. A female voice to his surprise interlaced with a strong British accent - which he could recognize thanks to his unholy uncle Haytham - and of course because of good old Maria Thorpe. As Altaїr glanced back over his shoulder towards the hallway he had just left, he could see a young woman striding their way. Immediately his brain told him that it simply was not possible that this young woman would be his trainer and that probably Connor just wanted to make jest. Surely Connor would soon dissolve the situation laughing his ass off. There was no way such a delicate young woman would be able to train a man like Altaїr. She was pretty, as he had to admit when she left the hallway and came to a halt under the bright neon lamps of the swimming hall, in her modest black swimsuit. She was wearing her thick brown hair in a nice braid around her head, indicating that she indeed had long hair. If he would ask Maria she would probably be able to tell him what that kind of braid was called. Her eyes were of a mesmerizing green and little freckles were not only dusting her cheeks and nose but also her shoulders. There was nothing sexual about her attire, she was wearing a simple black swimsuit that looked more like one for professional athletes than anything else and except for a delicate gold ring on her left ring finger, she was not wearing any piece of jewelry either. So she was married. Well, not that he was looking for a partner now anyway, was he? Still, a part of him felt bitter.

"So, you must be dear Connor's cousin Altaїr, right?" She smiled in greeting before she outstretched her right hand for him to shake. "I'm Evie Green, nice to meet you."

Altaїr had really thought Connor was fucking with him - he hadn't. When Altaїr later returned home early in the evening, Malik wasn’t there. He had only left him a note on the kitchen table saying that he was out on a date and would come home late. Sometimes he wondered if Malik did these things really just so he would not worry or because he wanted to hurt him in any way. It was hard to tell, really. Working with Evie had been quite the experience as he later was ready to admit after he sat down with his laptop on his bed sore and exhausted from the day he had. She was stronger than Altaїr would have thought she was and being in the water had been surprisingly soothing to him, even though he could still not grasp why that was. It was not like he would be seriously afraid of water - he was just not so very fond of it and felt uneasy being surrounded by water - or at least that was when he would be alone.

He still held the memory of Malik and him breaking into the community pool at night to go for a midnight swim quite fondly in his heart. He had felt safe back then because of Malik who had been by his side and Evie and Connor today had managed to make him feel that exact same way too. He had not needed to worry about drowning or about other people looking funny at the adult male who could not even swim.

Yes, there had been looks (mainly from the old ladies) when Evie and Connor had helped him getting into the water or later when Evie had started to teach him, but they had not been the same kind of looks he had gotten as a child and they soon had been completely forgotten anyway. By now he felt completely and utterly exhausted. Of course, after they had stayed for a little over two hours at the pool, Connor had forced him to go shopping for his own Speedos so that he would not need to borrow Malik's next time again - and of course Altaїr had been though in reminding Connor of the fact that there would not be a next time. Connor had simply ignored that - because they both knew that Altaїr had been acting up a bit only to act up. He did not even know why if he would be honest with himself and everyone else.

He had just opened up his writing program on his laptop, as he heard the front door. A short glance at the clock on his taskbar reassured him of what had only briefly crossed his mind by the sound. It was way too early to come back home from a date - at least if it had been a successful one. It was only seven PM. So, another failed attempt, Altaїr quietly mused, listening to the sound of Malik getting rid of his shoes by the front door. Oh, those familiar sounds … how he had missed them without even realizing it.

"Altaїr?" Malik called from the hallway and for a brief moment Altaїr really thought about playing dead or quickly acting as if he had fallen asleep with his laptop still on his lap, but then he inwardly sighed and decided it was about time to act accordingly to his age.

"Bed!" He called back and it did not take long for Malik to follow his answer. Altaїr only quickly glanced at Malik as the man leaned into his room. There was an odd moment of silence between them, just blankly staring at each other and taking in each other's appearance (really why the hell had Malik always have to look so handsome when he would go out on a date?), before Altaїr turned his attention back to the computer (away from Malik and his nice shirt and his nice pants and his nice tie) and started typing again, with nothing in mind really. He almost thought Malik would just go again, instead, Malik entered the room and only a moment later he fell down next to him onto the mattress as if it was the most normal thing - as if it was _still_ the most normal thing.

"How was the swimming lesson?" Malik yawned as he cushioned his head with his right arm.

"You are wearing your prosthesis." Altaїr replied without looking at him. Of course, he had noticed it immediately.

"Why shouldn’t I? I have it to wear it, right?" Even though Malik tried to act all calm and confident about this, Altaїr very well knew that he wasn’t. He knew that Malik hated the prosthesis, mainly because he thought he needed it. Altaїr had never thought like this. He had never cared if Malik would wear it or not, he had loved him even with just one arm - but Malik hadn't.

"That’s why you can't have more than one successful date with the same person, Malik - because people don’t like it when they are being lied to." Altaїr chided him with a faint smirk before he tried to act all annoyed once again. A small part of him was glad, though.

"No, people don’t like one-armed strangers how it turned out." He huffed and there was a bitter tone to his voice - understandably so, as Altaїr briefly thought.

"So you didn’t tell them right away? I mean before you even met?"

"Would you?"

"Why, yes, of course, I would you idiot! No wonder you can't get into anyone's pants nowadays anymore! You have to tell them right away or at least leave your plastic friend at home when you meet someone." Why was he even giving him tips? Why shouldn’t he just enjoy that Malik did not have any luck whatsoever? Why not be happy and excited that Malik would keep being single just a day longer?

"Easy for you to say, right? I mean, after all, you don’t get to decide whether to take your wheelie or not."

Altaїr managed to laugh dryly. "Well, I could, but it would look a bit odd if I would come crawling into some fancy restaurant. Besides unlike you, I'm not planning on going on dates."

"Why not? Are you afraid someone would not like your wheelie?" Despite his mocking undertone, Malik's question seemed serious enough to Altaїr to feel his guts clench at the mere thought of it.

"No." Altaїr immediately lied. Well, it was not really a lie, he guessed. He was not afraid someone would not like his wheelchair, he was afraid that someone would accept him like this. He was afraid that someone might be willing to engage in a relationship with him like this. He did not want someone to baby him. He did not want someone to help him with the easiest tasks. He did not want a relationship deprived of sex. He did not want to face the risk that this person would someday have enough of this sexless arrangement and dump him after he managed to fall in love with someone other than Malik. The wheelie was just a catalyst for all of this, it was just a reminder of those fears.

"Well, then I really don’t understand." Malik sighed again before he sat up straight and shot a look onto his monitor. "What are you going to do with that story?"

For a moment Altaїr did not even know what he meant, but then he followed Malik's outstretched, pointing finger with his eyes and stared at the document he had opened up. With a deep sigh, Altaїr closed his laptop and leaned back heavily. "I don’t know." He answered. "Probably deleting it and try not to think about it."

"You should try to finish it and publish it." He wanted to laugh, but as he looked at Malik he could see that his ex-boyfriend was deadly serious as he stared back at him with his dark, dark eyes.

"Me? An Author?" Altaїr snickered nonetheless. "I think you tasted sour grapes."

"Why not? Your writing is not bad, Altaїr. You know this. Why not trying it? You could ask Maria if she helps you, after all, she has the connections, right? It would be a chance, Altaїr. Something new and exciting!" He couldn’t help but think about Connor's words. Malik seemed pretty happy with his desk-job, but that was nothing for Altaїr. He did not like the prospect of sitting behind a computer all day long!

"I don’t want something new…" He found himself murmuring. "I just… I want my old life back." It was barely a whisper, but that was what he felt and what he wanted. He wanted his life back, his life with Malik as a couple. And before Malik could say something in protest of his statement, or before his brain could start working again, Altaїr leaned to his side and caught Malik's lips in a kiss without thinking twice about the god-awful mistake he was making.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to put out a big massive thanks to Enthymontai for discussing this fic with me and putting so much thought in it XD You really helped me when I was kinda stuck ^^ I think I got the hang of it now... XD

Floating on water was harder than it seemed. Floating on water took every tiny bit of strength that Altaїr had still left in his body. It was exhausting for his back and arms - possibly even for his legs, though he would not be able to tell of course since he was not feeling them. He was tired already, and yet this hell he was in was not about to stop all too soon.

"You're making great progress." A blatant lie for all Altaїr could tell, but Evie Green did not even have the decency to blush, as Altaїr threw his most angry look in her general direction, not able to really take his eyes from the task at hand or the finish line. He was used to focusing his eyes on the goal and to never let his attention stray from it. "What?" She laughed. "No, I really mean it! This right here, Altaїr, is a lot, even though you might not be able to see it!" Her cheerfulness seemed honest enough, he guessed, but still, he was not in the right mood to join her.

"It's not enough." He groaned, but a voice from the sidelines was quick to answer: "It never is, but that's your personal problem."

At first, Altaїr would not have thought that he would be able to bring himself to keep up with swimming at all, after he first started it, but by now he was glad to use every excuse he could come up with to stay away from the house and away from Malik as well for that matter. And so a few weeks had passed already in which either Maria or Rauf had picked Altaїr up after his training with Evie three times a week. It was still not enough time away from his ex-boyfriend. Today it was Maria's turn again and she only rarely was in the mood to hold back on her criticism towards her best friend. Some things just never changed – only Maria's growing belly.

"It's not my fault, that you are lacking determination." Altaїr huffed while he still tried to hold his balance on his back without drowning miserably. It would be easier if he really had something to focus his eyes on other than the glass ceiling above him.

"Oh, but I have determination, sweetheart. It's just that I do have reasonable expectations." Evie just laughed at that. Of course, she and Maria would get along just fine. They shared not only a home country but also the typical British sense of humor bringing them closer together, much to Altaїr's dismay at times.

"We're done for today anyway." Evie then announced with a smile on her freckled face, before she guided him back to where he could get out. He liked to sit on the edge with his legs in the water for a moment after each lesson - because it felt normal even though he could not feel his legs or the water. It felt like he was still in charge.

"You are in charge." Evie had told him at one point during their training after he had opened up to her about this thought, and Maria repeated it later as they were walking through town. It always took Maria a bit more self-control to refrain from taking the handles of his wheelchair than it took Malik or Connor, but she was learning. They all were. Rauf was the most fidgety in his presence, the most nervous of the bunch.

"I wouldn't have thought you would keep doing this, but I'm proud that you do, Altaїr. Evie is right, you are making progress. The Altaїr I knew would have never even contemplated going swimming, but you do and you are learning it. To me, that is quite impressive - and I am not alone with that thought, you know?" _Yes, I know_ , he thought, but this did not make it better for him. This did not make it easier to keep his mind focused, to keep his act together, to grow and forget. Somehow he was certain that it would be more helpful if they would not say anything at all and just let him be instead of dousing him in compliments because he was oh so very brave.

"Stop sweet talking me. It's not enough." He shot back because it was easier this way. It was easier to bitch about it.

"And you stop it with the self-loathing." She sighed and pinched his cheek. "You kissed Malik, so what? Get over it and stop looking for excuses to go home. Or at least stop tearing yourself apart. I doubt he is angry with you for that stupid little kiss."

Not because of the kiss, Altaїr thought bitterly. But for what came after it.

※※※※※

 _The laptop was all but forgotten as it was tossed to the end of the bed with Alta_ _ї_ _r's story still open and waiting that he would continue it, waiting for him until he would start typing again to finish it. Malik's fingers clinging to his neck, however, were the only thing he could focus his mind on in this very moment. The world around him was just a blur and nothing seemed to be of importance any longer. Not his handicap, not the story he needed to finish, not the strain and exhaustion he felt after this long day of training. Alta_ _ї_ _r gasped for breath like a fish on land as they parted for just a second, not for longer than a heartbeat, before Malik's lips came crashing down on him once again and with them all the memories of the past. He feared that he would drown in them if he would not be careful._

 _The truth was that he had not felt that level of desperation since high school, since his libido had been in control for the most part of his daily routine, always demanding his full attention. Memories of Malik pinning him to his locker on a deserted hallway came back to him. Memories of Alta_ _ї_ _r climbing through Malik's window in the middle of the night and the need to be silent while Malik's parents had been sleeping in the room next door. The thrill came back, the danger of their forbidden passion – forbidden at least in their little world. It had been more romantic to imagine themselves as star-crossed lovers, as Alta_ _ї_ _r as a thief who came in the night and vanished before the sun would rise._

He could feel every bit of oxygen being pressed out of his lungs as Malik suddenly rolled on top of him, without question, without hesitation. Suddenly, _Altair's hands were everywhere on Malik's body, shoving up his nice black dress shirt which he had only put on for some stranger who was not even worth Malik's time or attention. His fingers were ghosting over his skin, trying to brush over every little scar and bump on his back. Some of them Alta_ _ї_ _r knew by heart, some he didn’t. It felt good to not think about his actions for once, but just to follow his instincts and the pressing lust growing inside of him urging him forward, urging him to not think, urging him to just enjoy this moment he had secretly longed for._

_Suddenly there was no reason to question any of this. It felt right and good, but there was still this little voice in the back of his head, telling him that this was not going to happen, no matter how much he wished for it and even if it did, this would not fix anything._

※※※※※

"Maybe Evie is right. You should go to that group that her brother leads. It sounds quite fun and I think this will be good for you. You could start a whole new path with your YouTube channel, you know? I mean ... Why not filming yourself doing stunts in a wheelchair?" Maria took a sip of her earl gray (oh how very British) and took a moment to look up from the manuscript lying between them on the small table to have a small look at Altaїr's face. Coffee cups and glasses were clinking in the background, people were chatting and laughter roaring. His father's coffee machine was hissing with steam like a vile beast ready to attack, like a dragon protecting its egg, while the waitresses were running around with patting feet in their flats and sandals. It was a hot day outside and the people were literally storming cafés and bars to get the most out of this day until the next rain front would hit, as it always was during summer in this part of Germany. His father had his hands full and he was never more happy as he was during busy days like this. Altaїr enjoyed seeing him flashing his biggest smiles at his customers when he would hand them ice-cream over the counter. This had always been his father's big dream and it was wonderful seeing him living that dream, even though his own dreams had been literally crushed.

"I think you are getting along with Evie a bit too well." Altaїr replied, ignoring her comment about his former YouTube channel. He had not deleted it after the accident, he had just stopped being active, stopped uploading videos and he had refrained from taking a look at his old videos too. Maybe he feared the anger and desperation that could boil up again if he would. Surely his followers thought he was dead after his crash had been all over the news. It was either that or they knew he was sitting in a wheelchair now. As he put down his cup, he noticed that his hands still smelled of chlorine, but he felt oddly relaxed. Yes, maybe he even felt a bit proud somewhere deep down in his heart. But pride was a feeling he did not dare to let too close to his heart ever again.

"I'm just saying … _The Rooks_ , I've never heard something stupider in my entire life. A bunch of weirdos acting as if it is cool to sit in a wheelchair and as if they were real athletes…"

"Says the man who has never even tried it. First, you would need to get Jacob to let you join them anyway. Evie said he is quite picky with whom he lets into his group."

"He could deem himself lucky if I would decide to join this band of idiots of his. _The Rooks,_ really." He snarled, but Maria presented him with a jovial smirk on her pretty pale face, instead of saying what she wanted to say, even though Altaїr knew it anyway – and decided he did not like what she was not saying.

"Anyway," She then breathed and pointed at the manuscript in front of her. "This is really not bad, you know? It needs a bit of work still, but I really think we could publish this in time - if you wish."

"It was Malik's idea." Altaїr immediately tried to brush it off, even though he did not quite know why. Somehow the idea that strangers could read this story suddenly felt odd to him. To him, it had been somewhat therapeutic to write this story. Maybe it was because of this that he felt odd about publishing it and like that somewhat showing his darkest feelings and thoughts to the world. He was not the type to pour out his heart to really anyone – if he was, he had a Tumblr blog where he would whine all day long.

"We would need to change the names of course, but otherwise, I would see no reason why this should not be the next big hit. People like _historic_ novels, after all. Just look at the book trends out there, it's insane." This was just her way of ignoring him, but Altaїr had no problem of repaying it with ignoring her just as well.

"Malik draws, did you know that?"

"We need to change one or two things about the villain too; otherwise Abbas will send a lawyer after us for sure… Malik doesn't _draw_ , Altaїr. He _paints_ , that's a difference and of course, I know that he paints, after all, I advised him to look for a hobby so that he would have a way to deal with the stress and his inner turmoil after everything that has happened."

Altaїr was dumbfounded by the revelation. He had seen Malik draw - _paint_ \- only once as he had surprised him in his room after they moved in together again in this big house, but he had all but forgotten about it because of the fiasco after his first day of swimming. "He is quite good." Altaїr stated quietly if just to say anything at all, for his thoughts would always travel back to that night again and again. Back to Malik's burning hot fingers on his naked skin, back to that feverish desire clawing at him in earnest.

"You know, Altaїr…" Maria pulled him once more from his thoughts. "Lust is something that is not only born in your groin and pleasure is something you can experience in your head just as well."

He almost spat his coffee across the table and like that directly into Maria's face. He could feel the burning hot sensation as his ears turned red as if his grandma would have caught him with his hands in his pants.

"Pardon?" He coughed as he wiped his chin with his napkin, but Maria smirked playfully at him.

"I am your best friend, Altaїr, I can see what you think. Maybe you should try to get to know your own body a bit better again before you start something new with someone else again…"

"There is nothing to explore." He hissed, suddenly aware that Maria already knew everything, that she knew more than just that he had kissed Malik again, that she knew everything about this whole debacle. And since he had not told her more than about the kiss, she surely had to have heard it from Malik. "And I don't want your advice either!"

He did not want to yell at her, but he could not help it either. He could feel his anger burning hot. He was ashamed that Malik had apparently talked to her behind his back. "Maybe you should put your own house in order first before you poke your nose in other people's business." With a small noise, he loosened the break of his wheelchair, threw one last dark look at Maria and then he was gone.

Next time he visited Evie, he felt heavy as a rock. The moves she had taught him felt like an impossible task to execute all of the sudden, even though he had done it before and numerous times already. He was moving his arms as she had shown him, but his arms were tired as they dragged his body through the water. Evie followed him on the side, walking pitter-patter on naked feet beside him on the tiles. They were alone in their part of the pool, except for one lonely athlete, who was still practicing on the diving board and did not grant them any attention. It was late and through the glass ceiling, Altaїr could already see the stars. Altaїr had floaters around his ankles to support him for now until his upper body would be strong enough to support itself, without his numb legs dragging him down.

Evie was clapping a never ending rhythm with her hands that should tell Altaїr the pace he should be going and he did his best to keep up with it.

"Reminds me of the dancing lessons I got before my wedding. Well, I did not go to a professional dancing instructor of course - I mean, jeez, who has time for this anyway - my brother taught me actually. He is quite a good dancer." Evie laughed.

Altaїr did not look at her, even though he would like to, but that would have ruined the rhythm he tried to stick to. "I thought your brother sat in a wheelchair too." Altaїr replied, already quite out of breath.

Evie laughed a little. "No, he doesn't. Well, not anymore. You see, he was bound to a wheelchair for a few years after a motorcycle accident, but he regained his ability to walk again. His situation was different from yours and most of his clients, though. He was lucky -his nerves had not been savored. But he understands the problems and worries of his clients all the better. He decided to start his gym after he followed me to Germany - after my wedding."

Talking made it easier to cope with his exhaustion, that was no revelation of course as Altaїr was an athlete - had been an athlete once. He used the distraction to his advantage.

"Why did you come here, to Germany?"

"Well, my husband, Henry, got a job offer from a big company here in Germany and we decided to take it. Life is an adventure after all and we decided to treat it like one and get the most out of it. It was hard at first; especially learning the language, but I don't regret it."

"Do you miss England?"

"Sometimes." She smiled and as he reached the other end of the pool her clapping stopped. "I think you are being picked up."

Altaїr grabbed the rim of the pool and rested his forehead at the cold tiles in exhaustion for a moment before he followed Evie’s pointing finger towards the glass door that was leading to the changing rooms. Maria and Rauf usually had no problem walking in here and have a little chat with Evie, but it was neither Rauf nor Maria standing there. In the neon light, he could see Malik's face and wished Evie would tie stones to his ankles.

※※※※※

There were many things Malik had to think about lately. He was running from date to date to no avail, meeting idiots or boys too young to even consider a serious relationship with. Maybe Malik himself was not yet ready for a serious relationship either, but it was what his mind told him to look for. If it would be just sex he desired, he would not have a problem to get just that. He thought about Altaїr more than he liked to admit even, and that he still seemed to be the only man Malik knew in this way who did not give two flying shits about his missing arm. As a teenager, he had been afraid that they would not stay together, that Altaїr would maybe see that this was just a phase and leave him for some girl to start a family. In his early twenties, he had been certain that they would stay together forever and grow old together to be a grumpy old couple always complaining about the other. Now he saw that their relationship had crumbled long before his accident already.

Altaїr had asked him why he had moved in with him again and why he was so adamant to help him getting his shit together. The truth was, Malik had no answer. There was nothing he could really gain from helping Altaїr. There was no sense of bittersweet satisfaction to see him stumble, as some would probably have suspected him to feel. He did not feel satisfied seeing Altaїr like this, so low, so broken, even though he might have felt like this before he had actually seen it. Before he had seen Altaїr in his dirty apartment for the first time, just the shadow of a man he had loved for so long, he had thought that he could feel satisfaction witnessing his misery. But the truth was that he still loved him. Altaїr still had his heart in control, whether he liked it or not and as long as it would stay like this, Malik would never be free to start something new, let alone be able to.

Maybe he just wanted to protect Altaїr, but he knew for himself that this too was not the true answer.

The true answer lied in front of him, as was so often the case in life, as Malik found himself in a quite unusual situation. A part of him was certain that Rauf did not actually need to work overtime today and that Maria did not feel unwell all of the sudden. A part of him suspected that Maria had forced poor Rauf to tell him that blatant lie so that Malik would have to come here and break the veil of silence that had lied over his new house in the last couple of days. Surely only someone like Maria would want to force them to talk, even though Altaїr did not really need anyone to pick him up. And yet he was here, while his mind told him, that he could just have ignored Maria and her demands.

For a moment he was frozen in time as he stared through the glass door. He hardly wasted a look at the young woman clapping and walking slowly beside the pool. His eyes rested upon the figure in the water. He could see Altaїr's muscles working even from afar. He did not care for the floaters around his ankles which should apparently help him to stay afloat while his arms were doing all the work. He just had eyes for Altaїr's face, for the deep wrinkles on his forehead, a sign of utter exhaustion and strain, and for the determination, he could see sparkling in his eyes even from afar (or at least that was what he was imagining Altaїr's eyes to look like right now, as he was focusing so heavily on his task). This was exactly what he had missed seeing even though he had not been aware of that fact for such a long time as it seemed.

Malik found himself mesmerized by that picture for a moment as he kept standing by the door, watching how Altaїr was dragging himself through the clear blue water. For just a heartbeat Malik thought back to their little encounter a short while ago on the day Altaїr had started his swimming lessons with Evie. As Altaїr had kissed him -probably out of jealousy - Malik had not known what he should do at first, but when his own body had taken over, all he could remember was a feverish tangle of limbs and skin on skin. He had tried to devour Altaїr whole and for that moment everything that had gone wrong between them had been forgotten completely, just like it never happened in the first place. Altaїr and he had been back together as they should be and Malik had thought that it was good, that they should start fresh and just leave the pain behind them. And then he had opened Altaїr's pants and the bubble shattered.

As their eyes now met, Malik felt that he finally understood what it was he had been looking for, when he had decided to move in with Altaїr again. It was this sparkle in Altaїr's amber eyes and suddenly he was aware that their break-up would have been inevitable, even if neither of them would have suffered loss and injury. They had been a couple for almost a decade, known each other all their lives. Malik had known Altaїr like the back of his hand, and he had seen Altaїr growing tired and bored of him and their relationship and their life as a couple. They had lost each other in the Maelstrom of daily routine, between new missions abroad and training. In the end, they had hardly even seen each other anymore and Malik had stopped missing Altaїr altogether. He had stopped growing worried or excited when he did find time to watch Altaїr practice with his plane. He had stopped growing jealous because of the men and women who stared at Altaїr in awe. As a young teen he had been afraid that Altaїr would leave him to start a family, but shortly before everything had fallen apart he had understood that Altaїr was not the only one who had admirers. It was weird, really. He had always thought the falling apart of a once loving relationship was the saddest thing in the world, but looking back he had felt just … nothing. Nothing at all.

Maybe it was not so much that he had stopped loving Altaїr, as his feelings had just been put on hold for a little while. But was there any chance for them now, after everything?

He would have time to find out, he mused while he waited for Altaїr to change. First, however, he would have to break this veil of silence for real now. "Why are you here to pick me up?" Altaїr did not sound angry as he wheeled himself out of the building. Malik was walking a bit slower than he usually would. He could see how tired Altaїr was and that he could not go as fast as he usually was, but of course, Malik would not take the reins either. He just shoved his right hand in the pocket of his jeans and slowly walked towards the parking lot. There were just a handful of cars left late as it was.

Malik could understand why Altaїr liked to have his training lessons so late at night with Evie, much less preying eyes from curious old ladies. Malik would have done it the same way if their places were swapped.

"Maria decided that she was feeling sick and Rauf apparently had to work overtime." Malik explained casually and behind him, Altaїr sighed.

"So they wanted us to talk."

"Apparently. Well, is there something you want to talk about?" A part of him already feared the answer to that.

They both did not want to talk about their situation that had become quite clear to Malik during the last few days. He had barely even seen Altaїr and it was not just because Altaїr had tried to avoid him. "I'm sorry about what happened the other night."

As they reached the parking lot, Malik saw Evie, Altaїr's trainer, and a young man who apparently came to pick her up, standing in the light of a lonely street lamp. He was roughly the same height as she and had the same pale skin and dark hair.

"What do you mean?" Malik replied, though of course, he could imagine what it was Altaїr was sorry for. "There is no need to feel sorry."

"Yes, there is." Altaїr groaned. "I'm sorry for starting something like this and then cry like a little girl just because-"

"Because you couldn't feel what I was doing. I get it, Altaїr."

"No, you don't! You can't imagine what it feels like. It was dumb anyway! I should not have kissed you anyway! Not after everything I have done."

Malik thought about the accident and about Altaїr sitting by his bedside as he woke up in the hospital with his arm and his little brother lost forever. There had been no need for Altaїr to tell him, to confess to him that he had cheated on him and maybe Malik would have liked it better if he would have stayed silent. After Altaїr had told him, his anger had been like a vile beast and he wished it had not been like this.

"We have both made mistakes." He calmly stated after a moment which he used to collect his thoughts and yet was none the wiser. Evie waved at them before she climbed into the black car and the man who was picking her up looked there way, nodded his head, and climbed in the driver's seat after he had closed Evie's door.

"But I've done much worse. I ruined everything!" Altaїr erupted all of the sudden as he stopped his wheelchair. He sounded strained and hurt – even honest in his remorse. Malik could see the guilt Altaїr had loaded upon himself. He had always been like this, always blaming himself for everything that was going wrong, for every little fight they had.  In his mind, he surely really thought that he had deserved what he had gotten when his plane had crashed.

"I had an affair." The words just slipped him and after the truth had escaped his lips, there was no going back.

 


	15. Phase IV - Acceptance

"What are you doing?" There was nothing for Altaїr to do but as to watch in horror as Connor ate the crust of his pizza with the face of a man who was not even aware of the crime he was committing, as his gaze fell upon Altaїr's horrified face.

"What? I thought you were done eating!" The thief repeated while he was still chewing Altaїr's pizza.

"But this is the best part!" Altaїr immediately shot back at his thief of a cousin who was still devouring the most sacred part of the pizza without a care in the world. "I was saving the best for last, like every sane person!"

Beside him one of Connor's large dogs looked at him with big blue eyes as if he wanted either to agree or tell the tale of a starving dog that never got any food from the table, even though they were not sitting at the table but on Connor's comfortable soft sofa and even though Altaїr knew for a fact that this was a blatant lie. Connor's dogs were thieves and liars, just like their owner.

"Well, my house, my rules." Connor laughed with this booming deep voice of his and did not even seem to care for his cousin's outrage at this thievery. He was absolutely cold-blooded. "So you finally decided to give this wheelchair group a try tomorrow?" Connor then asked still munching on Altaїr's pizza as if he could make Altaїr forget about it this way if he would just change the topic to something more benign than food theft. The younger man just grunted and made a small grimace as he finally started to come to terms with the realization that Connor would not give him back the rest of his pizza.

"Yes, Evie's brother will pick me up tomorrow after my training." He sighed. "But before I join I want to have a look at that group first."

"Of course." Connor replied, but his face told Altaїr that his large cousin already seemed to know the outcome of that situation, and if Altaїr for once would be honest to himself, he would know the outcome too but was yet too stubborn to admit to it.

"Is Malik going to pick you up afterward? I can imagine that you will be too exhausted to go back by yourself."

Malik, well, he thought about last week's most unwelcome revelation again and wished he had not. Before Malik had told him the truth (or rather blurted it out in a moment of utter honesty in the middle of a nightly parking lot), Altaїr had blamed himself for the downfall of their relationship for months on end, but now…

After his initial anger, they had talked the entire night. Of course, Altaїr had not said a single word to Malik on their drive home. Not like a brooding teenager who was not allowed to visit the concert of his favorite rock band, but like a man who honestly needed to think about everything in silence for a little while. Clearly, his initial reaction had been hurt and anger, clearly he had wanted to scream at Malik, to lash out at him, but he had chosen silence in contrast to his old self. After they had sat down in their living room with a bottle of wine they had started talking in earnest as they should have when they had still been a couple. They had talked about Altaїr's one night stand on the night of the accident that had killed Kadar and about Malik's affair. There was no question about it that Altaїr had felt the need to ask Malik with fear in his heart if he had been in love with hat other person and the answer had hurt all the more. More even than just the fear of it.

"Yes." Altaїr replied as he forced himself back to reality. "Yes, he picks me up. He said first swimming and then wheelchair action is too much, even though I can take care of myself as he very well knows." The dog by his side whimpered silently as he bedded his head on Altaїr's left knee again, understanding that he would not get any food tonight of the visitor slowly starting to seep into his brain.

"Well, he worries about you. You two seem to get along a whole lot better lately." Connor smiled and somehow Altaїr wondered if Connor might have known from the start that his relationship was going to fail eventually. Connor was a man capable of great foresight actually. "Do you think you might get back together?"

"No." The answer came quick, maybe even a bit too quickly to be taken as truth. "I mean, Malik and I are friends and he already looks for a new partner, so I guess I'm out of the race now. And I myself am not ready for something like that anyway and I doubt that I will ever be ready for this whole dating game or relationship thing again."

"Many of my clients have the same problem, you know? I'm speaking about sex, of course. If it's just that." Altaїr was almost as horrified as Connor stole his food, as the word _sex_ left his cousin's mouth. A word like this was not supposed to escape Connor. The guy would not even curse and now he was talking about sex!

"Says the virgin. It's not _just_ sex, Connor, but how should you know how important sex really is in a relationship?" Maybe his rebuttal was a little mean, but knowing Connor he thought that the friendly giant would not take it as an offense really and he proofed Altaїr right when he sighed and brushed a hand through his dark mane as if he could not even be slightly annoyed by these comments.

"Intimacy and love are much more than sex, Altaїr."

"As if you would know anything about either of those…"

"I know enough to talk about it."

Maybe Connor was right, he later thought on his way home. As Malik and he got together, they had been driven by lust and the passion of youth and an overly excited libido. Maybe that had always been the problem between the two of them. They had never deemed it necessary to get to know each other as a couple, like other would, because they had already known everything about each other and for the entirety of their relationship they had been more like friends with benefits but not … well, a deeply in love couple. Yes, they had snuggled on rainy afternoons on their sofa, but almost every bit of innocent intimacy alone had always shortly developed into sex. When they had gotten together as teens it had felt somewhat right, somewhat like the natural thing to happen. Neither of them had been in a serious relationship before and Altaїr had been afraid that he could lose Malik if their relationship would break. Then again this time without Malik back then, the time between his confession and the moment they had first kissed, had been even more filled with the fear of losing him, losing his best friend. Maybe they got together for the wrong reasons in the first place, but Altaїr had never questioned his love for Malik because there was nothing to question. Of course, they loved each other. Of course, that was nothing to think about. He had never quite felt the famous butterflies going on a rampage in his stomach when they had first kissed and only ever felt them when he got nervous, but he had always thought that this was only because they were on a whole other level already.

Looking back now he could not even tell if he had ever been _in love_ with Malik or just loved him. Missing Malik even for one or two weeks had been hard enough and he had rather wanted him as his boyfriend than not at all.

He had not cared about the juicy details of Malik's affair. He had not wanted to know the name of the person or where they met. He had not even wanted to know if it had been a guy or a woman. His hurt over Malik's confession and the affair had been real, but as he began to understand it was just the betrayal to see Malik disloyal towards him that had stung so much… He had not really been afraid that Malik could love someone else because no matter how twisted their relationship really was, they both knew they loved each other - still.

And yet Malik was out on the field playing the game again while he sat here in this wheelchair and could do nothing about it. He had no right to do anything about it.

※※※※※

Malik was growing tired of it – these dates with these men. It seemed to be always the same thing. Everything was fine as long as they would not know about his missing limb. They would get along well chatting on the internet like one did in these modern days, but then he would meet them and the little bubble he had found himself in before would shatter and burst into thousand little pieces as soon as they would realize that this left arm of his was just plastic. It was weird how many men out there had a kink for soldiers or ex-soldiers. One of them had even been quite turned on when Malik had opened up about his arm, thinking about a bomb having ripped Malik's arm off clearly and about the PTSD Malik was clearly suffering from. Clearly, none of those men knew what it really meant to date a soldier or to deal with PTSD.

As he entered the house that night, annoyed by yet another failed attempt of meeting a possible partner, it did not take long for him to find Altaїr.

Since their little conversation a little whole ago, they achieved a whole new level of serenity between them and in their house overall. Everything was said, every single card lay open on the table for them to look at if they so desired. Or at least it seemed to be that way. There was not a single secret left between them, maybe for the very first time since they became a couple in the first place. What an odd and oh so very sad thing to think, he briefly mused. The last time they had been so open with each other had been when they had just been friends. Back then there had been nothing they would not talk about to each other, no secret left unsaid, but this had all changed when the little monster of jealousy had first lifted his head in Malik's stomach when Altaїr had talked about wanting to date Maria.

For the first time since they moved back in together, Malik felt light-footed as he walked towards Altaїr's room. The annoyance he had previously felt coming back home just fell from his shoulders, as he saw the light coming from Altaїr's room. The door was ajar and the light from inside the room was shining onto the hallway like the beacon of a lighthouse in stormy seas. Malik was polite enough to knock before he pushed the door open all the way after he had bridged the distance from the front door to Altaїr's room.

Altaїr was sitting on his bed, his laptop discarded to the side, but Malik could see that he had been writing before he had started what he was doing now. "So how's your story going? Is Abbas dead yet?" Malik smirked as he came closer, while Altaїr was still fighting with his own long legs as it seemed, struggling to apply lotion to his skin. He was only wearing his boxers and a simple white shirt he liked to sleep in lately. Malik briefly thought that he would need to wash it soon – but then again Altaїr was kind of in charge of their laundry.

"Not yet. I'm still thinking about a gruesome enough death for him. After all, he shoved me out of that tower and tried to kill you." Altaїr sighed as he gave up his struggle and threw the lotion towards the end of his bed in annoyance.

Malik did not ask for Altaїr's permission as he sat down on his bed and grabbed the body lotion from the mattress. He knew how important it was for the circulation that Altaїr would apply this lotion regularly to his numb limbs, but he also knew that his ex-boyfriend had always struggled with doing so even before he was paralyzed. Altaїr did not even protest as Malik started to smear it over his legs, which was not as easy as it would have been with two hands. "Is this okay?" Malik hummed while he was working, but Altaїr just huffed and sunk back in his pillows. Briefly, Malik found himself wondering why in the hell he was even doing this. Well, they were friends of course and friends helped each other. There was nothing wrong about it and Altaїr did not seem to mind anyway.

"You are aware that I don’t feel anything waist down, right?" He then snickered, as if this was just one giant joke to him and Malik decided to treat it like one too, as he punched Altaїr's left thigh gently.

"This too?" He laughed as he then went on to pinch him.

"Ouch!" Altaїr wheezed and tried his best to make it look believable. Sadly he was not a very good actor. "You are a mean person, Malik! Abusing someone who is helpless!"

"As if you would ever be helpless!" Malik laughed as he continued with his work. While his fingers were gliding over Altaїr's soft skin, he thought about the countless times he had caressed this skin before. Altaїr always had sensitive skin, but especially sensitive he had been at his thighs. And yet, Malik thought, no matter how often he had kissed or bitten him right there, he had never done something like this before. They had been a couple for almost ten years and he had never done something like this before! He had never even applied sunscreen to Altaїr's back when they had been at the beach or the lake! This thought almost made him chuckle a bit.

"You could always behead him. I'm fine with beheading Abbas, you know? He hit me with a vase after all." Malik then hummed and as he noticed Altaїr's confused look he gestured towards the laptop again.

※※※※※

There were a few things Malik had never quite registered. He had known those things of course, but he had never registered them to their full extent and now, ten years after he had first kissed Altaїr, he grew aware of these things as odd as it might sound.

Altaїr was drinking his coffee black, no sugar. Altaїr would echo street signs as they would walk or drive past them. Altaїr slept with his bedroom door wide open, so he could hear what was happening around him or so that Malik would hear if anything would be wrong with him. He would only really close his door when he would start to write in earnest – which always included putting on his glasses too.

He had always known that Altaїr was strong in mind and body, but only now he really started to register it, as he watched through the glass window in secrecy. First swimming and now that. He was working hard as he was trying his best to keep up with the other athletes, but he could see the strain on his face too. Altaїr still had a long way to go, physically but above all mentally. He was making progress, but suddenly it seemed to fully hit Malik, that Altaїr would never walk again, just like he would never get his arm back or see his little brother again. Altaїr would never get back to his feet again. He would never see his little brother smile or hear his voice again. He watched how Altaїr wheeled himself through the parkour, cheered on by the broad-shouldered stranger that could only be Evie's twin brother and thus the trainer of this group, whom Malik had seen only once before in the dimly lit parking lot of the community pool. He had the looks of a wolf with his unkempt beard and stubbles and his dark unruly hair.

Shortly, he thought, that it had always been him cheering Altaїr on until it had not been him anymore. No matter how stupid the competition he had indulged in, Malik had been there to cheer him on and now he stood and watched, realizing that he had never _watched_ before. He had been too busy cheering him on because this had been his job as his boyfriend, but he had never taken a step back to take a look. Slowly quietude was seeping into his life and mind. He was leaving behind the rush of his youth in this time of his life and this age between twenty and thirty. He was not a teenager any longer and he was not yet an old man, but he was leaving the stage of being a young adult slowly. There were no strings tying him to Altaїr anymore only his own free will.

Slowly he sat down on a bench near the window and the glass doors leading into the gym so he could keep looking. Somehow, for the first time it seemed, they were done pretending. Instead, he felt as if he was finally stepping out beyond the edge and started the motion, started to see and grasp reality for the first time. His world had been at a standstill and every time he decided to rise, he had been descending instead. Nothing had really worked out the way he had thought it would. He had done what was asked of him because it was asked of him but not because he had wanted to. There had been no goals in his life up until this point, nothing he really had wanted to achieve in earnest and then the fall into reality had been all the harder because of it. His phone was vibrating in his right front pocket and as Malik took a look at the display, it was this wretched dating app once again.

He was done with this crap, he decided as he deleted the app without batting a lash. His eyes rested on this prosthesis for a short moment and he smirked. Altaїr was right, oddly enough to think this, but he had always hated this bloody thing. He felt as if this plastic thing was dragging him down as if he was dragging all his ballast after him through an endless wasteland of broken dreams and missed opportunities. He did not want this anymore. His stump was itching as he thought about removing the prosthesis once and for all and finally leaving behind the past.

He thought about Altaїr's question, when he had told him about his affair, about this very childish question, that fear that Malik could have been in love with this other person, with someone else but Altaїr, as if it would really matter still.

Yes, he had loved the other man in a way he had not loved Altaїr, but the moment he had lost his arm, he had been faced with the reality of things again. The butterflies in his stomach had quickly ceased to fly and died when he had needed to understand that this lover of his was not going to have a relationship with a cripple. A whole lot of gay men were shallow and superficial, as he had learned the hard way. They wanted fun and adventure and not yet settle down, or at least most his age did not want this. Yet, Altaїr remained no matter what – the man who was to blame for all his suffering always remained. It was the first time since the accident, that he felt a lot more at ease with this thought, that it did not feel like a curse resting upon him any longer. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if the accident had never happened.

Would Altaїr have told him about his one-night-stand? Would he have taken this confession as an easy way out of their broken relationship without ever having to confess his own affair? Would he have ended up with his affair to live happily ever after? Would Altaїr have still ended up in a wheelchair? A part of him had felt obligated to stay with Altaїr for quite some time, but this too was something he only recently started to realize to its full extent. There had been destined to be together, it had been natural for them to be together and in the end, they had forced themselves to stay together because it was what everyone, including themselves, had expected them to do. The truth was they had both wanted to get out, otherwise, they both would not have cheated on the other. Altaїr was no cheater. He himself was no cheater. They had wanted out and they had not known how. Then the accident happened and Altaїr stayed because he had thought he was obligated to and Malik had lashed out on him.

He was aware that these thoughts would lead him nowhere and yet he could not help following them. That was human nature, he mused. He guided his eyes back to the window to watch what was happening. He had come a bit early just in case Altaїr would not like it here, but for now, he seemed quite adamant. Malik watched how he was racing after another man and watched as Altaїr took the next curve of the race course a bit too tightly. His wheelchair was thrown off balance and in a matter of a heartbeat, Altaїr's wheelchair fell to the side, letting its driver collide with the hard ground in a tangle of limbs and metal. Malik jumped to the door in an instance. He expected to hear Altaїr scream or curse in pain, but for a second nothing at all happened, so that Malik already feared he had hurt himself more badly than he would have assumed. He was ripping the glass door open already, ready to jump to Altaїr's side and help him, as he was startled by Altaїr's loud, roaring laughter.

The trainer, seemingly the only person able to walk, moved towards Altaїr casually and with no haste at all, while a few of the other athletes were already snickering and laughing, and after he had pulled the wheelchair off Altaїr and put to the side upright again, Malik was finally able to see Altaїr again, lying on this back and clutching his stomach in a fit of laughter. Even a little smirk found his way to his face, as he realized that this was the face Altaїr only ever made when he had found a new challenge in his life. And Malik began to realize that this was exactly what he needed himself.

※※※※※

His little accident during his first hour of training had been embarrassing at first – especially because of Jacob Frye, his coach, and because of Jacob's desire to always film everything he saw. He did not shy away from playing the video of Altaїr's crash over and over again for his own amusement and for Altaїr to see. Jacob, of course, said he was only filming and showing the tape to Altaїr so he could improve a little more and that he was doing this all the time during training. Altaїr however, was not shy to call a lot of bull on it. But watching the video of him unceremoniously crashing to the ground like a crash-test dummy reminded him even of the first time he had fallen face down in the dirt during his first parkour lesson and the feeling of utter embarrassment he had experienced with it. Embarrassment, yes, but above all, the thrill of a new challenge, the thrill of adventure.

And like it was back then, during his parkour lesson it was the same during his training with _The Rooks_ now: he was hooked. A month later and Altaїr was practicing with _The Rooks_ three times a week and went swimming two times still with Evie. He needed the extra bit of strength that Evie helped him to develop during their meetings and he had to admit that Evie was a great asset to his physical improvement. Even Connor was proud.

"What are you doing there?" Altaїr huffed as he went into the kitchen. His hair was still wet from sweat, but it was worth it. He had just dropped his bag next to the door (which Malik hated) before he followed the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen.

Malik was standing in quite a mess, surrounded by pots and pans and all the different kinds of ingredients he apparently needed. He had missed seeing Malik like this, as he started to realize now. "What does it look like? I'm baking." Malik replied waving a wooden spoon in his general direction without moving his eyes from the recipe in front of him lying on the counter.

Altaїr was irritated at first, but then he grinned and wheeled in further. "You haven’t done this in a while." He remarked. Malik had not baked since they were living together again at least, but he could not recall seeing him baking since the accident, either. Malik had always been a great cook and a stress baker as well. There had never been a shortage of food in their house.

"Well, because it's not easy with only one hand." Of course, Altaїr had noticed that Malik was not wearing his prosthesis anymore since his first day of training with _The Rooks_ actually, but he had decided not to comment on this either and to treat it like it was the most normal thing to do – or in this case not to do.

Altaїr smirked a little. "I can't even bake with two hands." He chuckled. "So, let me help you then."

"You are the worst in the kitchen. Have you forgotten about the ban?"

"Well yeah, but you would have three hands to work with then. Just tell me what to do and I do it."

Malik looked at him as skeptical as one person alone could possibly muster before he gave up. "Go get an apron and wash your hands then, novice."

It was almost like it had been when they had still been a couple. Malik was baking and the smell filled the entire house but it was the first time that Altaїr was actually helping and not just stealing the chocolate. They had never done anything like this before. They had not even once cooked together in their long relationship before. He had always done something else or had been out and about when Malik had been baking or cooking at home, only to come back and devour everything without as much as a _thank you_. His interest in Malik's cooking or baking had never extended farther than over eating the finished product. But doing this together now felt nice for a change.

"We should go running together tomorrow morning." Altaїr proposed as he was stirring the chocolate the way Malik had shown him, still aware of Malik's critical gaze resting upon him. Malik only grunted at this and cocked an eyebrow.

"You were never able to keep up with me." He then replied. "You always need to make things a race, dear friend, and I tell you, you will lose this one." Well, it was not a refusal.

"You would be surprised how fit I became." Thanks to the swimming mainly, as he might add. It was true that he had become faster since he had started his training with Evie and _The Rooks_. He was making progress, he was building up strength and muscle. Before all of this had started he had never thought it possible to come to the point he was at now. Back in April, he had been sitting in his dingy little apartment, uselessly scrawling away his life and imagining a world in which everything might turn out okay for him instead of actually doing something to make it okay in reality. Now, just a few months later at the end of September, he had found something new he could cling to. Oh, how very weird that was. He had never thought it might come to this. He had thought he would be stuck in this forever, in this endless nightmare, this dark dream that would not let go of him no matter how hard he was trying to escape.

It was not like he had miraculously outsmarted his depression or his anxiety – but he started to learn how to fight them and if Malik had not been the one to drag him out of his apartment, he would not be where he was now. Still, a part of him wondered if Malik had done so to fight his own inner demons, or because he felt obligated to do so. It did not matter anyway, he thought. Whatever Malik's reasoning might have been back then, they had grown closer together again. They were friends again, somehow.

Malik laughed a little as he took the bowl with the chocolate from Altaїr to slowly pour it into the dough. Of course, Altaїr took the bowl back so he could dip his finger into the remaining chocolate. As if he would ever miss out on such a trait. It was delicious. "Oh, I know how fit you became, idiot." Malik then smirked as he began stirring the dough carefully. "That’s why I'm making the cake."

"For me? Dawwww you shouldn’t have…."

"No, it's not for you, novice!" Malik laughed before he was done stirring and poured the dough into the baking dish. The oven was already running since Altaїr had entered the kitchen and started helping Malik. He loved the heavenly warmth radiating from it and he had always loved the smell of Malik's cakes or muffins and cookies whenever Malik would fall into a fit of baking again to cope with stress at work – or stress with Altaїr. "It's for Jacob."

Altaїr almost forgot about the chocolate bowl in his hands as he stared at Malik and only when the other man was shooing him out of the way so he could put the dish into the oven, he came back to reality. "For Jacob? Why?" He felt the beast raising its ugly head somewhere deep down in his stomach. Oh, he knew that feeling and he knew what it meant. He also knew that he had no right to feel that way.

"Well, because he let you join _The Rooks_. But of course, it's for Evie too, because she keeps up with a novice like you." Malik replied as he closed the oven and stared at the temperature for a little moment with wrinkles all over his forehead. Altaїr felt relief washing all over him as he started to scrape at the chocolate in the bowl again in earnest. Relief, yes. For a moment, he had feared Malik would maybe start getting interested in Jacob. Well, he was good looking and if he himself would not be sitting in a wheelchair than maybe he would… "What."

"What _what_?" Altaїr was startled by Malik's look at him as he grew aware of the fact that Malik was indeed staring at him.

"You stare into the void again, like you always do when you are thinking about stupid stuff. Don’t forget, I'm your oldest friend, I know you the best." Sometimes, when they would talk, it was as if their relationship had never happened as if they both had decided to treat their almost ten-year relationship like it had never taken place. It was sad, really, but sometimes it helped, sometimes it hurt.

"I'm not staring into the void." Altaїr scoffed and handed back the bowl at Malik. He would share the chocolate like good friends did of course. Well … Malik could have what Altaїr left behind like good friends did. "I just wondered… Well, what do you think about Jacob?"

Malik took the bowl, but he kept his gaze upon Altaїr before he leaned against the sink with a sigh and put the bowl down again. "You mean, dating vise?" Altaїr did not nod at this, but it was not necessary anyway. "Well, he is good looking, I must say. And he is quite nice. I think he is a lot of fun and a very honest man too. His heart is right where it should be and he knows hardships."

"Well, would you date him?" He tried not to sound like a jealous teenager, but more like a friend honestly curious about a situation. Malik hummed and for once, Altaїr did not know what to make of it.


	16. Chapter 16

_Altaїr was sleeping on the couch again. That, of course, was nothing new anymore since the accident. Some might be tempted to say that this was an unfortunate evolution of their relationship, rather ten steps back than one forward, but Malik was glad. He did not care what idiotic excused Altaїr used to sleep on the couch nowadays. He did not care if he blatantly lied to Malik when he would say he needed to get up early and did not wish to wake Malik in the middle of the night, or if he said he needed to research something or would come home late. Altaїr was working overtime as much as he could, eating out with their friends or alone (Malik really did not care) as often as he was able to, all of this just so he would not need to sleep in their bed by Malik's side._

_It was not because Altaїr would find him disgusting now that he only had one arm, that was at least what Altaїr said, but Altaїr knew very well that Malik could not stand his presence around him. Maybe he even felt guilty. No, not maybe. He felt guilty, period. He felt guilty for cheating on Malik and blamed him for the accident afterward - and rightly so. Malik did not care that he himself had cheated on his boyfriend of nine years for three months before his world had shattered into a million little pieces. Altaїr had cheated on him with some stranger he could not even name anymore and then he had had the audacity to call Malik to pick him up._

_He should feel guilty._

_Malik did not even know why Altaїr was so adamant to stay with him still. Their relationship was just a farce by now, it had no substance to it, but he still refused to see it. He let himself get treated like shit by Malik and he would still stay and take it all because he was certain he would deserve Malik's rage and that only made things worse._

_As Malik found himself staring at his boyfriend’s sleeping form on their couch in the living room, with stubbly cheeks and the blanket lying half on the floor, he felt that there was nothing left in his heart for this man. Where once had been love, there was only anger and resentment now. Malik was not a violent man. He had never been violent. But Altaїr brought out the worst in him and now that he watched Altaїr’s chest rising and falling evenly while he stood here, awakened by nightmares of the accident and his brother and the pain of his stump, he just wanted to get his gun from their gun cabinet and put a bullet to Altaїr’s head._

※※※※※

Altaїr was sleeping on the couch again. That was nothing new lately. He had a lot of work still left to do and by now time was running out for Altaїr and his deadline. It felt very familiar to Malik seeing Altaїr knee deep in his work and since he tried to keep up with his training schedule as well, Altaїr spent almost every night writing lately. His laptop was still on, standing on their quite messy coffee table with books and papers strewn all across its surface and Malik suddenly remembered fondly how much Altaїr had always hated mess like this. He was actually a quite tidy person, but that came just from their military training, Malik guessed. Now everything around Altaїr was a mess, while he was working, but Malik did not really care. If anything, he liked it. It was something new, something he had never seen like this before. Altaїr's office had always been one tidy looking place and Malik knew that, deep down, Altaїr had hated this. He had hated his office work. He had just wanted to be out and about, living an adventurous life. That was, after all, why he had had that dangerous hobby which had ultimately led to him ending in a wheelchair. However, Malik was not naive enough to think Altaїr would not have ended up in a wheelchair anyway. If it had not been the plane crashing down, he would have had an accident doing parkour sooner or later. Maybe it had been bound to happen.

Altaїr’s glasses were still on his stupid sleeping face and Malik felt that he simply was not able to resist taking them from him and to lay them onto the keyboard of Altaїr’s laptop – in hopes the idiot would not blindly close his laptop and destroy both the screen and his glasses in the process like he did once a few years ago. Somehow he had always found it quite endearing that Altaїr would never put on his reading glasses in the presence of other people but Malik and he still remembered how Altaїr always used to squint his eyes in school to properly read what was written on the chalkboard. He was vain, but when it was only them in the room, Altaїr did not really seem to care. As he put away Altaїr's glasses now, Malik was quick to read at least the last few paragraphs and snorted quietly.

"So I see Abbas is still alive." Malik hummed as he leaned over the backrest, staring down on Altaїr as the man fought with opening his sleepy eyes. His hair was tousled and his cheeks stubbly because he had again forgotten to shave in the last few days. It was exactly the face Malik had once fallen for, even if it was more defined by now. Altaїr's jaw was now more prominent and edgy as it had been during their teens, but he still grew the same somewhat patchy stubbles in absolutely no time.

"He is the end boss…" Altaїr groaned as he dragged his left hand over his face and bit back a yawn. "I can't just kill him off like this. We need a proper boss fight first with explosions and dramatic music playing in the background."

"Yeah, of course, you can't." Malik laughed. "You are just a big softy, that's all."

Altaїr looked at him with his left eyebrow raised slightly higher than the right. "A softy for Abbas?"

"Uhum."

"Na-ah." It was almost as it had been once when they had still been children and able to tease each other without knowing what the future would bring them, but sadly those times were long gone and forgotten by now. At least, Malik thought, he could try and preserve those memories in his heart forever.

"So, and what about us?" Malik then smirked. He had never been too enthusiastic n talking about Abbas. This was how it had always been since kindergarten actually.

"What about us?" Again confusion seemed to strike Altaїr like a vile beast and though it was dark inside the living room with the exception of the laptop screen casting a white hue on Altaїr's face, he thought he saw his ex-boyfriend blush ever so slightly by this question and there was this small, but very persistent thud somewhere deep in Malik's guts that he usually tried to ignore, but could not ignore now. Just as he could not bite back the memories of the feverish kisses they had shared not so very long ago coming back to the surface again and again. Sometimes, in moments like this one right here, he felt like he was nothing more than an addict and Altaїr had once been his drug. Oh, he had been clean for a long time, since their breakup for sure, but now that he was living with Altaїr again, he felt the urge to go back to his old habits again.

"Well, are we going to get back together in your story or what?"

Altaїr snorted faintly and looked at the screen just shortly. "As if you could live without me. I am the single most handsome man you have ever seen."

"And you snore." Malik laughed as he stood up straight again, resting his hand on the backrest of the sofa, but his eyes were already traveling outside of their large windows and the glass door that were leading to the back garden of their house. He had always wanted a house like this, together with Altaїr. Maybe even a family with him, children running around their house with stomping little feet.

"Well, you talk in your sleep, that's more annoying."

"You love it when I talk in my sleep."

"Yeah, right." Altaїr yawned. This time he did not have the decency to hide it, though.

"So, are you nervous before the big day?" Malik then chuckled before he walked around the couch and sat down beside Altaїr, even though he needed to shove Altaїr’s feet out of the way first only to place them on his lap afterward again. Just because Altaїr did not feel them it did not mean they were not attached to his body anymore. Malik shortly remembered the times Altaїr had been sick in the past and how he had often sat beside him like this and rubbed his feet to comfort him. Altaїr had liked it, but he had never admitted to it.

"I’m not." Altaїr lied without even blushing as he looked at Malik again. He did not even move an inch in his position; he just lay there most comfortably on their couch like a cat that was not going to make room for anyone. "Why should I be nervous?"

"Because there will be hundreds of people watching you." Malik teased. "I mean, it has been a long time since you last took part in such a public competition, right?"

"Two years." Altaїr agreed humming. "But I don't have reason to be nervous; I mean I already know that I won't win. I am not long enough in this whole world to ever be able to win something like that, so no pressure there."

"And what about your book?" Malik reminded him with a small tuck on Altaїr's left foot. "You’ll meet the publishers soon, right?"

"You _want_ me to be nervous, don't you?"

Malik laughed and leaned his head against the backrest of the couch to stare at the dark ceiling hovering above him. "Well, I always loved to see you tremble in fear."

Altaїr scoffed at this and if he would have been able to, he would have probably now kicked Malik - gently, of course, after all, he did not wish to hurt him physically. "So about Jacob." He then started up again with a sigh and was clearly very well aware of how Malik suddenly avoided looking at him.

"What about him?"

"Well, did you ask him out on a date yet?" He did not like how things had turned out until now. Malik could tell that Altaїr did not like that Malik could have found interest in his newly found friend and coach Jacob, but of course, he did not want to show it to him. Altaїr was just too proud and stubborn to show how he really felt about it. Instead, he rather pushed Malik forward and tried to act as though he would not mind Malik moving forward. In Altaїr's mind, Malik had every right to move on from their relationship and start something new and more serious perhaps. He was, of course, right with that thought. He _had_ all the rights to move on. And Jacob … Well, Jacob was a nice guy at least and Jacob could not give two flying shits if Malik had just one arm or not, he had made that painfully clear by now, just by the way he would talk to him when they would meet every time Malik would decide to pick Altaїr up after his training (which was quite often by now). And Malik had to admit that he was not ashamed to use every goddamn excuse to pick Altaїr up from training. Altaїr surely thought that this was because then he would be able to see Jacob more often, but Altaїr had always been quite blind to the things in front of him. It was true that Malik indeed felt a little bit attracted to Jacob and that he indeed could imagine going out with him, but he was not the sole reason why Malik wanted to pick Altaїr up. He loved to watch him practice. He loved to see the progress Altaїr made and not only from the YouTube videos Malik would get to see on Altaїr's channel. He wanted it live.

"No." Malik sighed.

"Why not? You know, you are quite a coward for being an ex-soldier." To Malik, it was obvious that Altaїr did not really want to encourage him. He did not want Malik and Jacob to start dating. If it was for him, he would not want that Malik would ever date anyone but Altaїr himself, and he still thought that Malik was not able to read him like an open book. Maybe Altaїr did not want to appear as selfish as he had once been, but to Malik, it was clear that a part of Altaїr wanted him back, just like a part of Malik wanted Altaїr back. It was as he thought earlier: he was an addict and he felt how he was near a relapse being so close to Altaїr. He himself was selfish and he knew that, because if their places were swapped, he would not want Altaїr to date someone else too. The bigger part of him, the more logical and reasonable part of his brain, however, was aware also, that he and Altaїr would never get back together, no matter how much time would fly by.

"How do you even know that he is interested in men? Did you ask him?" Malik huffed instead of letting the tease get to him.

"I’m gay long enough to know when someone likes dicks, Mal." Malik only granted him a small chuckle as an answer to that idiotic comment. No matter what he would say or do, the truth was that Altaїr really would not like to discuss such matters with Malik or to even imagine Malik in someone else's arms. And Malik could understand that. Well, maybe that was their curse after so long of a time being together day and night. Their lives were woven together by a thick thread and it was not going to break easily.

"So, you didn’t really give me an answer earlier. What do you think?" Malik finally breathed and as Altaїr looked at him in confusion he gestured towards the laptop again. "Do you think we will end up together again? Like in the good old times?" As his confusion would not falter, Malik snorted. "In your story, dumbass. I think we have much of a tragic love story going on there, don't you think?"

"No." Altaїr sighed with a small smile creeping up his face. "I think we are bound to destroy each other."

※※※※※

The air inside the hall was humid and smelled musky - _manly_ , as Altaїr would probably frame it. Well, he was the writer, Malik supposed, even though he had never thought Altaїr capable of writing before. Yes, Altaїr always had had a vivid imagination and he had always been a great storyteller and Malik remembered fondly the times when Altaїr had stayed the night at their house, telling horror stories to Kadar until his little brother had been too scared to sleep alone. But he had never thought that Altaїr would be patient enough to just sit down and focus long enough to write an entire book by himself. In school, he had not even managed to write a short story by himself for class without Malik's help. He had managed it however and the story was even good. It did not matter what Malik had thought about it, in the beginning, it was a good read and the story, though way too close to their real life for comfort, had something very soothing when he would read the latest chapter Altaїr had managed to finish.

It was weird to see himself from Altaїr's perspective and he would have assumed he would be a much bigger asshole in this story. He was not however. Yes, in the beginning of the story he had not been like Prince Charming to Altaїr's character, he had treated him roughly and had often thrown mean things at his head, just like he had before their breakup, but he had his redeeming qualities - or at least he seemed to have from Altaїr's perspective. Altaїr himself had painted his character in a much more critical light. Apparently, Altaїr was quite good in seeing all the good and redeeming qualities about other people, no matter how bad they would really treat him, but he was not able to see anything good about himself. He was very critical about his own personality and he was good in bringing every little bit of darkness he held enclosed in his mind to paper.

While he could see the good in Malik, he was blind for his own qualities it seemed. To Malik, however, they had never been clearer than now as he sat here on this bench and just watched the competition with a sense of awe, while around him people were cheering and clapping for their loved ones.

"It's hard to believe that this is our Altaїr, isn't it?" Rauf was cheerful as always, as he sat down next to Malik on the wooden bench. He had just come back from the toilets and his hands were still damp and cold from the water, as he placed his left hand on Malik's left shoulder in excitement, giving it an almost reassuring squeeze. Rauf had always been a quite physical character, always in need of touching people, but Malik did not really mind. That was just how Rauf was. Malik's eyes, however, were focused on the middle of the hall and the athletes performing their little tricks and stunts. It was insane what those men and women could do with a wheelchair, but still, Malik felt his heart stop every time Altaїr would throw himself of that stupid ass halfpipe like he had used to when he had still been into skateboarding years ago.

"Some things just never change I guess." Malik replied with a little snort and yet he could not help but flinch as Altaїr's wheelchair produced a loud noise as soon as it came into contact with the other side of the halfpipe again. "This is insane…" He heard himself mutter silently, maybe even thankful that this was Altaїr's last discipline. Yes, Altaїr was practicing those things for months now, yes, Jacob had an eye on things, but it still was insane and he did not like it. He also did not like that all these insane people on the internet would cheer Altaїr on in the comments on his YouTube channel. What if he would miscalculate a jump and fall on his head?

"No, it's just Altaїr. You should know, after all, you know him the best, right?" Rauf chuckled quietly and as Malik glanced at him from the side, Rauf's brown eyes were fixated on the spectacle in front of their eyes.

"I really don't know." Malik chuckled, but Rauf gently nudged him in the side. It was just as Altaїr had said last night, he had not won at least one of his disciplines in this competition, but it did not matter at all – or at least, for once, it did not seem to matter to Altaїr. Back in the day, Altaїr had always been furious when he would lose at anything, but today it seemed not to bother him if anything he seemed to have fun.

"So, this Jacob-guy, right?" Rauf then began and looked at Malik, his hands crossed underneath his very hairy chin. Rauf had always looked way older than they did, even during school. When they had been sixteen, Rauf had looked like an adult already, quite proud of the beard that had started to grow from his face. Oh, Kadar had been perfectly envious of him. Some people on the streets were frightened of Rauf sometimes because of the way he wore his beard and hair. Even when he was wearing suits and ties, they looked at him as if he was a terrorist. Rauf, however, was one of the most loving and warm hearted people Malik had ever had the good fortune of getting to know.

"What about him?" He replied as he tried to act all innocent and unsuspecting.

"Altaїr said you would like to ask him out on a date."

"Altaїr decided that I would like to ask Jacob out on a date."

Though laughing, Rauf still pressured on. "Well, he is quite handsome, isn't he? I bet you two would get along quite fine."

"He is almost as reckless as Altaїr."

"As if you wouldn't like reckless." Rauf snorted. "I mean, come on, Malik. Life's too short to worry! Altaїr does not seem to have a problem with you dating Jacob too! Why not go for it then? You could at least try and if it doesn't work out, it's not the end of the world!"

"He is Altaїr's coach and they are friends. If we would fight or have a nasty break up sooner or later, things would only turn complicated and ugly in the long run for Altaїr, and I don't want that."

With a heavy sigh, Rauf leaned back in his position just a bit and placed his hands on his knees as if he was trying to channel his inner Buddhist monk, so he would not need to use violence against Malik to get his head straight. "How does it come that you are always three steps ahead?" He breathed. "I mean, just ask him out first and then you see if it could work or not, right? Altaїr said Jacob is bi, so your chances are quite good, right? You always bitch about how those other guys you have met treated you as they learned about your arm, but Jacob does not seem to be the type to have a problem with something like that."

"He is quite nice, actually. And funny too. Altaїr often asks him to join us for dinner or something and I must say that he is fun to be around." They had no history of course. Maybe everyone would be fun to be around in comparison to Altaїr. Well, then again, this was hardly fair, was it? Altaїr _was_ fun to be around too, especially after he came home from his exercise or training when the adrenaline was still rushing through his system. The adrenalin rush always made him giddy like a small child.

"How is Altaїr by the way?"

"He has good days." Malik chuckled, amused by how cliché his own words sounded. It was the truth, however. "And he has bad days. When he has a good day, it's usually very good. He writes like a maniac and jokes around like he used to, but when it's bad, it's usually really bad. He has troubles sleeping sometimes and if you ask me he pops way too many sleeping pills, but it seems the bad days start to grow lesser in frequency at least. Actually, they started to lessen after Altaїr started with exercising again. I guess it helps him to get his mind straight."

"You are aware that he still loves you, right?" Again with this topic. Malik would have loved to scream or just wander off, but instead, he forced himself to watch the competition. Altaїr was just finished with his last round on the halfpipe and now waited for the announcement who had won this discipline. He looked exhausted and even from afar Malik could see the little beads of sweat running down his forehead. He was joking with one of his teammates as it seemed, or at least Malik saw him laugh, with one of the other _Rooks_ next to him.

"I am."

"And do you still love him?"

"Love is a big word, Rauf."

"So yes."

"I didn't say that."

"You would have just said no, if you wouldn't still love him, Malik. I know you since kindergarten, you cannot lie to me." And maybe this was even true, Malik thought. He was usually not the type to beat around the bush. Usually, he liked to say things as they were. If he would not love Altaїr, he would have just said no and he himself perfectly well knew that he still loved Altaїr, but it was hard to talk about this with Rauf or really anyone else.

However, before Malik could even begin to form an answer to that, they were interrupted by Altaїr's cheerful voice. "Hey, Malik! Why don't you join us?" Altaїr shouted from a few meters away, as they now all needed to wait until the jury would have decided on their vote, and gestured to one of the spare wheelchairs, but Malik only raised one eyebrow.

"And how am I supposed to maneuver that thing with one hand, silly?" He shouted back, not even thinking about the other people around them and frankly, he did not care for them anyway. Most of the people in the audience were chatting right now anyway and Malik was rewarded with this god awful cackling laughter Altaїr sometimes produced.

"So, Malik, do you think you two will get back together?" Rauf asked with a smirk on his face as Malik managed to force his eyes away from Altaїr again.

"Is this a trend I've missed?" He sighed and could hardly force the annoyance out of his voice. "Why is everyone asking me that question? No, Rauf, we are not getting back together. We are _friends_ and this is fine. If I'm honest, I feel we are much closer now as friends as we have been as a couple. At least now I can argue with Altaїr without him groping me to distract me from the argument."

"Wow TMI!" Rauf laughed. "So, then there really is nothing stopping you from throwing yourself at Jacob, right? I must leave now and I warn you, Malik: If I don't hear from you tonight that you and Jacob will go out on a date _tomorrow_ , I will personally go and ask him for you. I will even bring flowers, you'll see."

As Rauf left, Malik found himself looking over to Jacob once again. He was going to the other members of the group, talking to them, giving them tips, laughing and joking around. Usually, he was the one who would film Altaїr practicing if Altaїr would ask him to, so he could update his channel. Weirdly, or well maybe not even so weirdly, Altaїr's YouTube channel had almost exploded since he uploaded his first video of him and his first day of training. He had actually decided to upload the video of his little accident which Jacob had filmed and now he was documenting his journey to recovery, as he had called it, on his channel. The people loved stories like this.

Malik, however, felt a little torn about all of this. It seemed Altaїr would rise again like a phoenix from the ashes in almost no time as compared to Malik's own suffering after the accident. It did not seem fair. But maybe he was standing in his own way once again. He liked to do that a lot actually. It was almost impossible to say.

He was quite happy with his new job. Sure, he had never seen himself as an office worker, but he actually liked it and he was good in what he was assigned to do. His colleagues were nice and he got along pretty well with everyone around him. Only his private life seemed to be lacking anything real of emotion. He missed being with someone. He missed having someone to care for. Well, he had Altaїr living with him again, but it was not quite the same because Malik would always be careful not to cross the very thin line between friendship and love. But love was the exact thing he wanted.

Jacob always seemed to attract his attention, no matter what he was doing. He was easy to be around and never in a bad mood. He was good looking, handsome, just like Rauf had mentioned. He was a good influence on Altaїr and even Malik felt at ease when Jacob was around. It was a weird thing to feel, but could it be more than friendship at one point? With a sigh, he decided that he would need to find out for himself, just as Rauf had advised him to.

※※※※※

Altaїr had a hard time concentrating again. Lately, this was only getting worse and worse. He could hardly sleep and when he did, the nightmares were slowly starting to seep back into his brain. He dreamed of the accident, of the flames all around him. He dreamed of Kadar's dead body in the casket. He dreamed of Malik in this hospital bed and how everything had started to break away. Rationally, he had always known that their relationship was broken at this point, but in his dreams, he still seemed not aware. Even writing was hard for him now. He could hardly focus on writing just one sentence without pausing in between the words again and again or distract his mind with something entirely absurd.

He was spending most of his nights in the living room by now or in his bed watching stupid videos on YouTube and he felt almost as he had before Malik had ripped him out of his flat and his routine. He felt as if he was slowly getting back to the days when he had slept away the time or had done nothing of real value. Only when he would go to his training with Evie or Jacob he would feel more alive again. He had always loved the feel of the adrenaline rushing through his system, but never like he did now.

The meetings were the worst. He could hardly stand sitting in that big conference room with those people in their suits. The gray men were sucking away all the colors in the world and left everything gray and hopeless. He hated every second of it and hardly even listened when Maria was talking to those men. They were discussing his book, but he could not even focus on that. He just sat there and tried to keep his eyes open. After all, he had Maria to talk and listen. She had wanted to be his agent and so she should do what she thought was necessary.

Tonight, Malik would be out and about again with Jacob. It was their third date and every time Malik would come back he would be in the best mood of all times. Well, Jacob did this to the people around him and Altaїr could only try and suppress the anger he felt deep down inside. He did not know if they had had sex already, and he would most certainly not ask him. Malik was slowly but surely falling for Jacob, he could feel it almost with every fiber of his being. He would soon be in a relationship with Jacob and then he would start to forget about him. All the people around him would move on, start families like Maria maybe and would forget about him. One day, he was sure, he would be all alone. And yet he himself had talked Malik into asking Jacob out. He wanted to see him happy. He wanted Malik to find love and a partner he would be happy and grow old with, but still, a part of him, the selfish part of him, wanted to be that person. Maybe he should just accept that they would never be more than friends again. And maybe that was enough.

Maybe he could make it enough. He would just need to try. Malik often said that Altaїr could find someone else too and maybe he really believed that, but Altaїr simply could not bring himself to think like this. To him, there was no way someone would make the mistake of falling for him. Who in their right mind would want to date a cripple like him anyway? He had nothing to offer to them.

Over those gloomy thoughts, he almost missed the ending of the meeting where those men in suits always had to declare how much they were looking forward to the finished book and how honored they felt that Altaїr decided to give them the rights to publish this story. It was still surprising to him how easy it had been to get into contact with the publisher he had wanted for his book originally. Well, maybe the connections he had helped just a little with this although Maria would rather say that this was just because his story was so good.

He still had no ending for it, though.

And how was this story supposed to end? Would they defeat and kill Abbas, get back the brotherhood, be in love and suddenly, through some magical twist of fate, he would start walking again? No. Being a cripple in the twelfth century meant certain death and maybe that was how his story would end. Maybe the ending was that he would write a nice, peaceful death for himself and let Malik take the brotherhood. Malik would be a good leader.

Malik would probably not like an ending as this.


	17. Chapter 17

"How comes that you are still single?" Altaїr huffed as he got up again and tried to reach his knees, but let himself sink back halfway and down on the black exercise mat which was covering the floor underneath him. Connor sat by his feet and was holding them down because apparently, even though they were numb since the crash and could not move on their own, they were still acting out when he needed it the least as if they had a mind of their own - and they probably had. "I mean," He continued with another exhausted huff as he came up again. "you are good looking and you are nice. Sure, you smell like wet dog all the time, but…"

Connor laughed as he pinched his cheek next time Altaїr got up high enough for him to easily reach him. "I do not smell like wet dog, fatty."

"Uh, did I strike a chord there?" Altaїr laughed and almost did not find the strength to pull himself up again. Working out with Connor had taken a whole other turn by now and it was frustratingly exhausting. Still, Altaїr was glad that they had left those other exercises behind them and that they were done with Connor massaging his numb limbs every time he got here. "I'm sure you’ll find a girl that even likes your dog smell - and your dogs. Your coworker, Luna, always looks at you as if she wants to go down to town - if you know what I mean."

Seeing Connor Kenway all flustered and blushing was always something Altaїr liked to see, but would never tell anyone of course, even though he thought that he would never meet anyone who could not agree on that with him. Seeing a bear like Connor flustered was something very special indeed - a once in a lifetime opportunity sort of speak.

"What makes you think that I'm even looking for a girl?" Connor huffed. "Maybe I'm into guys as well?"

"No, you're not, you big sweet teddy. I do not get any gay vibes from you."

"You didn't know that Malik was gay until he told you that he liked you either, so I believe your radar is not very trustworthy, Pumpkin." _Pumpkin_  was one of those rare nicknames Altaїr hated the most, but which his British relatives really liked to tease him with. His Auntie Ziio would always call him that when they would meet or when she would call Connor and he was there too by chance. The Brits of their family were a weird bunch and they rarely ever agreed on something. They were all incredibly competitive and stubborn and yet, on this nickname, they all agreed apparently.

"Because it wasn't fully developed yet." Altaїr replied with a big toothy grin, but as he eyed Connor up he could not see any signs of discomfort in the face of the gentle giant that was his cousin. A part of him even wondered if Connor was hiding something from him and all the others, maybe even because he was afraid of his stern father's reaction, but then again, he highly doubted it. Connor was simply not the type to do something like this.

"Yeah, just tell yourself that if it makes you feel better." Connor then softly chuckled. "But no matter if I was gay or not, I simply do not have the time to give to a partner, you know? I'm here the entire day and when I get home I have to take care of my army of fluff. They are pretty darn demanding, but let me assure you that my mother already asks me when she will get grandkids. It seems the puppies do not suffice in that regard."

※※※※※

It smelled heavenly inside the house and that, for sure, was not Altaїr's doing. Altaїr had always enjoyed just watching his father cook and he still remembered how he had sat in the kitchen at the table watching his father with curiosity over his homework when he had still been a child and in the eyes of his father not trustworthy enough to do his homework on his own in his room. His father liked to hum while he would stir in a pan or a pot and to Altaїr this had always been somewhat soothing, even now as he said at the kitchen table with his laptop in front of him. He even remembered his father's humming and quiet singing, when he had been in the hospital, hooked to various machines, fighting for dear life.

"How is the story coming along?" His father interrupted his train of thoughts with a small glance over the shoulder. Suddenly Altaїr felt caught in doing something he was not supposed to do and quickly averted his eyes back to his screen, as he once did when his father would have asked him the same question concerning his homework instead when he would have noticed that his son had been daydreaming again. He used to do that quite a lot actually. He still did.

"Only the ending is still missing. I need a real kicker for the Epilog, you know? But I can't think of anything, no matter what. I really wonder how all the big writers do it." He groaned as he leaned back in his wheelchair, frustrated by the sole thought of bringing an end to the story. He had to think of something of course. Maria was starting to get nervous and the publishers were slowly losing their patience with him.

His father hummed as a sign that he did understand his son’s dilemma, as he turned his premiere attention back to the stove. "Well, I once spoke to an author and he said that when it comes to writing you cannot plan anything. He said he always made a plan for the stories he wrote and when he would finish them, they were nothing like the original plan anymore. Stories evolve and they live, he said. You cannot predict how they will end in the beginning, but only that they will end when it feels right to end them."

"That's a very artistic way to say it." He sighed.

"Writing is a very artistic and intuitive thing to do, isn't it?" His father then chuckled. "And you are a very intuitive person, so just leave it be until the ending will reveal itself to you. That's the only thing you can do anyway."

"Well, it seems I'm not intuitive enough, Dad." He sighed, but he was aware that he was just looking for excuses not to write at the moment. Even to him, it was an enigma why it was so hard to focus on his story and to finalize the ending, but it seemed since Malik had started to see Jacob, some of his old inspiration was missing from his life.

Maybe that was reality seeping back into his mind and the world around him. For quite some time life had been good again and he had been living in his own little dream world with Malik being in his life and close to him again and him being able to do sports and exercise and become stronger.

As they had been young lovers, he had thought Malik and he would stay together forever, but he now started to realize, that even as friends something like this would not and could not happen. He was happy for Malik, that he had found someone he liked in Jacob. Jacob was, after all, a pretty cool guy and if Altaїr himself would not sit in a wheelchair, maybe Jacob would be his type even. But since he was sitting in a wheelchair, Altaїr tried to not even let those thoughts close to his mind because otherwise, he would lose himself in them. Jacob did not seem to mind any disabilities when it came to friends or even lovers, which only made it harder for Altaїr somehow. It was weird and Altaїr was sure that he had never met anyone like him before. He was not the type to look down on anyone, no matter their circumstances and because of that, Altaїr thought that he and Malik would make a great couple, no matter how different they really were.

It was just … Well, it was the old dirty little jealousy biting him in the arse and rearing its ugly head. He was not noble like this, after all. He was a selfish child and Malik pretty much knew this, no matter how much Altaїr may have changed since the crash of his plane. He wanted Malik and he did not want to share him with anyone. Autumn was right around the corner by now and his months of physical training with Evie, Connor, and Jacob still would not see its end. He enjoyed the hard work he had to put in those endless hours with every single one of those three because as long as his body was busy doing everything they would tell him to do, he would not think about his humiliating predicament with Malik. There was no way he could ever tell Malik how he really felt, instead, he would rather push him in Jacob's arms to have at least Malik happy. The truth was that Altaїr was afraid what would happen if Malik and he would get back together again at some point because he was very well aware of the fact that he would not be able to survive another nasty breakup like theirs again.

He knew the answer to his problems, of course, and he knew that he could not get around making the first step forever. Malik and Jacob would get into something more serious for certain and knowing Malik, he would not say anything to Altaїr in terms of their living situation. Malik had always been his protector, even though Altaїr would have loved to say it was the other way around. It had always been like this, no matter his big mouth. Of course, Altaїr had been louder in proclaiming that he was the protector of his friends and especially Malik, but the truth was that Malik had been the one standing right in front of him when things turned sour without him even noticing it. He had always thought that he was the one always protecting Malik, but it was the other way around and now, looking back on their shared life since kindergarten, he was able to see that even. Malik had always kind of pulled the threads behind his back to save him from his own ignorance and stupidity. Without him, he would have been doomed.

Even as Malik had had all the right to hate him, and even as he had long forgotten the love he might have once felt for him, he still came to Altaїr's apartment and he pulled him out of his misery inside that dingy room he had sat in day in day out. Malik had moved in with him again and he came when Altaїr had had problems. He had helped him more than once since then, whenever Altaїr had managed to fall out of his bed or when he had fallen with his wheelie. In the beginning, it had been horribly frustrating. He had tried his best not to need Malik's help at all. He had roamed their house trying to do everything by himself, but without the skill to do so. It was different now. Now he knew how to reach the things in the highest cabinet without dropping them and breaking them on the kitchen tiles. Now he knew how to maneuver his wheelchair safely through the rooms without knocking something over in the process. Now he knew how he could prohibit himself from falling out of his bed or at least got the strength to hurl himself back again when it would happen. Malik had helped him a great deal with developing those skills and since he now would be able to be alone again … What right did he have to chain Malik to this house any longer? It was not fair to keep Malik from pursuing his own happiness, even when this happiness was without Altaїr. And knowing Malik, he would never make the first step.

Even now, Altaїr could not tell if Malik maybe felt guilty for the way their relationship ended. It was true that they both had made mistakes and it was also true that Malik had been cheating on him for months before his accident. After everything, Altaїr probably had the right to be angry with Malik for his cheating and for the way he had been treated by Malik afterward, but he really was not. Maybe there was still a little voice of anger left inside his chest, but if it was, it was buried so deep that he could hardly hear it. Oh, they had talked about it in length and great detail. They had argued back and forth, they had shouted at each other and yet, Altaїr did not even feel the need to forgive him any longer because now he felt as if their relationship had never been real.

And yet he was aware that Malik would probably stay with him until Altaїr would decide it was enough. Out of friendship or out of remorse for the way he had been behaving in the past, was impossible to tell.

"Where do you want to eat?" He tried to distract his brain as he turned to his father. "Shall I set the table or do you want to see a movie during dinner?" His father had always been quite strict when it came to dinner and manners during his childhood. They had rarely sat in front of their TV during dinner because his father had always said that this was vulgar and not good behavior. During dinner, the family was supposed to come together after a long day apart and talk to each other, not sit mindlessly in front of a TV, as he had always lectured his son when Altaїr had told him about his classmates and their dinners in front of the TV. However, the few times they had eaten in front of the TV, Altaїr still held in fond memory.

"Well, I’d say set the table here and do it _nicely_. My work shall not be for naught." Umar chuckled as he threw another glance - this time more like a warning to underline his words - over his shoulder and Altaїr repaid it with a faint grin before he wheeled his chair to the dish cabinet. At least Malik had put the dishes at a height where Altaїr could easily reach them. His father had not been a particularly strict father, not like Faheem Al-Sayf, but he had had his rules and if Altaїr had not followed them Umar could have been very strict in his punishments. Looking back now to the countless times he had sat in his room, bawling his eyes out because of the injustice he had suffered from his father’s cruel hands, he found himself grinning because now he knew he would have done it the same way as his father and he too knew how much it had surely broken his dad’s heart every time he had to punish his whiny little son. Sometimes having a strict parent was better than having a softy as a father or someone who just wanted to be friends with their children. His father had always told him as he became an adult that for the development of a child’s character a strict parent was better so that the child would learn how to behave properly in society - because it was important. A father and son could indeed become something like best friends, he had said, but only as the son would be an adult and would not need a firm hand any longer. Altaїr thought that he was right.

"No, not these!" His father huffed right as Altaїr grabbed their normal plates from the cabinet, still a little lost in his thoughts and memories. "I said do it _nicely_ , or did I stutter?"

"You mean I shall use the fancy dishes?" Altaїr replied as he looked at his father in disbelief. Last time they had used the fancy dishes was … Well, never actually.

"Yes, that is exactly what I meant and put some nice candles on the table too - And don't you dare to forget the tablecloth, son. I did not raise you to be scum." Well, after all, his father was the owner of a very nice café and something like this was important for his business.

"Aye aye, Sir." Altaїr grinned as he placed the dishes back in the cabinet. The fancy ones stood on the higher shelf. "Do you want to have candlelight dinner?"

"Oh, I won't stay for dinner." His father laughed as he turned his attention back to the food once more, but not without having shot a glance at the clock above the kitchen door. His answer came indeed as a surprise to his son, however.

"What? But I thought … For whom do you cook then?"

"For you and Malik, of course, _babycakes_."

For just a moment, Altaїr did not know what to say to that. It was not so much because of that ridiculous pet name his father sometimes - but fortunately only rarely - used for him to annoy the living crap out of him or to humiliate him in front of other people, it was the sole fact that his father had planned a nice candlelight dinner for him and his ex-boyfriend of all people while Malik was out there probably banging Jacob tonight. Altaїr did not even know if Malik had planned on coming home tonight after work at all. He only knew that Malik had had lunch with Jacob today and assumed that they had probably made plans for the night as well. After all, Jacob was quite the adventurous and outgoing guy - unlike Malik, actually.

"Dad, no. Seriously. Malik is going out with Jacob and no dinner will change that. Other than this, he will know that I have not cooked this, so what's the point?"

"I know that he is going out with Jacob, you already bitched about that more than enough times for me and the rest of the world to understand, _pumpkin_ , but I also know that you don't like the idea of Malik falling in love with someone else. I just offer you a chance to win him over again, to fight for him - and what better way to fight for love than with a good meal?" That was his father’s solution for anything: a good meal. His father had always liked to tell him the story how he got Altaїr's mother to fall for him and it was that exact dinner he had cooked her that he was now preparing for his son. It was ridiculous.

"I do not wish to fight for him, Baba!" He groaned. "We broke up a long time ago and it's okay that way. We spoke about it in great detail and we are friends now. We are closer now than we were when we were a couple, so why would I ever want to destroy this? Because I'm jealous? No. Malik still has everything ahead of him and Jacob can offer Malik things I can't."

"Do you know why you are much closer now than you ever were?" His father sighed as he turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter right next to the stove to look at his son. "Because you, Altaїr, have actually started talking to him. I am your father and I do not wish to busy my mind with these things concerning my son, but I am quite aware how driven you have been by your libido since you hit puberty and now that you do not have the same outlet as before you actually talk to Malik and you actually listen to him as well. You boys could still be happy if you would, for once, just shove sex out of your stupid brain. Because it is not the most important thing in the world."

Of course, his father and everyone else who had already told him that had it easy to speak about this as if sex meant nothing, and maybe to them it did not, but as soon as one was faced with never being able to have sex any more than this took a whole different turn. It was true that sex usually lost its value in the course of a long lasting relationship, that other things started to become more important than just banging each other senseless, that there was another kind of intimacy blooming between the involved parties, but to get to this point sex was needed. Or at least that was what he thought and sometimes he wondered if he and Malik would have ever gotten to that stage in their relationship at all. They had been a couple since they were teenagers, nine years in total and yet they had never reached this level of intimacy other couples claimed to have after just a year or two.

Weird, how now as friends they seemed to have achieved just that and maybe this even was the secret. Maybe they had been destined to first go back to their friendship again before they could start over, but that was a thought he did not want to delve into further.

Sadly, this was also the thought his father left him with after he was finished cooking and helping Altaїr dress the table nicely. Needless to say that Altaїr felt like a sloth as he waited inside the kitchen. He was still wearing his clothes from his workout with Connor and he probably still smelled like sweat, but there was not enough time to go and take a shower now. If he had known what his father had planned for tonight he would have gotten dressed differently and maybe even - _Wait_ , he thought. He already was getting nervous, but for what? Malik and he would have a nice dinner and that was it. Malik would probably tell him that he and Jacob finally got to the next level and he would tell Malik that they should separate again and live on their own, now that Altaїr was able to fend for himself thanks to Malik.

But as the front door opened, he still did not know what to do.

※※※※※

It had been one weird-ass day. That was Malik Al-Sayf’s resume for this particular Friday. Since August had left them a few days ago, September had hit Cologne with a front of cold air and a general feel of discomfort outside. Rain was slowly but surely filling the rain barrel that he had set up in their garden a little while ago - which was, of course, a good thing and nothing to really bitch about. Why of course, Malik had earned somewhat of a reputation when it came to bitching about things. The rain and the general coldness that was creeping back into the city were not the sources of his confused and somewhat cranky state, however.

The day had started with Altaїr sitting by his bedside and staring at him. It had not taken long until his ex-boyfriend and now again best friend had confronted him about his problem of the day. Altaїr had apparently not slept at all during the last night, as had been evident by the dark circles underneath his eyes and the source of that sleep deprivation was his story, which he seemed not able to end. For two weeks Altaїr was trying to find a proper end to this story already and yet nothing seemed right to the maniac living in Malik's house. He had been almost glad as he had been able to leave the house for work this day. Not just because Altaїr's constant nagging for help with his story (which had nostalgically reminded him of their time in school), but also because his friend had been quick to avert his attention to the more interesting topic (in Altaїr's mind apparently) and that was the date Malik had for lunch.

Malik still could not get behind Altaїr's curiosity when it came to Malik's dates with Jacob Frye. He was aware how much Altaїr still seemed to love him, maybe even more so than Altaїr himself, but why in the world would Altaїr want to ballast himself with unnecessary details now? Not that there were any details really. Altaїr seemed not to believe him when he would tell him that he and Jacob had gone out to eat and had a nice chat and nothing more than that. It was the truth, though. Unlike Altaїr, however, Malik too had known from the start that this thing with Jacob would lead nowhere while Altaїr had apparently been desperate to get Malik into Jacobs's pants as if it would concern him personally.

Going out with Jacob was always great fun. He would call it a date, but only because he did not know a more suiting word. They were not going out on romantic dates really. It was more like meeting up with an old friend to grab a bite to eat. Surely, their first dinner together had been a little more on the romantic side of things in a nice Italian restaurant, but it had quickly changed to an Irish pub in the old part of town which Jacob seemed to like. When he would be with Jacob it was easy to forget all his worries and that did include Altaїr. Jacob Frye had this remarkable talent of making someone feel like the most important person and when they were together he would focus solely on Malik. Surely, this was somewhat flattering. Of course, Malik had thought to make a move and today had been the day he had wanted to do so, but, maybe to his luck, it had been Jacob who had made the first move instead - though not in a way Malik had expected him to.

As he later came home after work, he saw Umar driving off in his old black Ford and quickly waved at him, before he entered the house only to be bombarded with the heavenly smell of chicken. "Oh my god, no one cooks chicken like your dad!" He moaned as he was immediately drawn towards the kitchen as soon as he had gotten rid of his jacket and shoes by the entry.

"So I cannot fool you into believing that I did cook this?" Altaїr chimes from inside, before Malik even entered the room. It was a little weird to be the one who came home to find dinner already cooked. Usually, it had been the other way around.

"Not even if you would have taken cooking lessons for the last ten years, honey-bunny." Malik laughed, but he was taken aback by surprise as he saw the arrangement on their kitchen table. The table itself was not the fanciest one, just a simple glass table from their old flat, big enough for four people to sit and eat, but apparently, Altaїr (or his father) had made it his mission to decorate the table nicely for this very evening. "I did not know that we did have that table-cloth still."

"Honey-bunny?" Altaїr huffed. "You got that from Jacob, didn't you? And yes, of course, we still had this bloody thing after you made such a big deal out of buying it back then."

The purple tablecloth matched the napkins and Altaїr even lit a candle, even though it was still quite light outside and not nearly as dark as it would be needed for a proper candlelight dinner. Still, Malik was a little impressed, especially as he noticed that he even used the fancy dishes. The reason why though was still eluding him. What the hell was going on with this man? "Maybe" Malik smirked as he stepped closer and then finally raised an eyebrow. "Are you expecting someone?"

For a moment, Malik almost worried that Altaїr had swallowed his tongue (it wouldn't be the first time and last time he quite literally swallowed his tongue - that had been the last time Altaїr got seriously drunk), then he was afraid that Altaїr had an answer that he did not want to hear. Until now, Malik had found it so odd that Altaїr so desperately tried to get him and Jacob to date that he had never quite considered the possibility that Altaїr did not do this because he wanted him to be happy, but maybe because he already had someone else himself and wanted an easy way out with Malik leaving him as opposed of Altaїr leaving Malik. He probably thought that Malik would go out again tonight and now he had somewhat caught him red handed here with a nice fancy dinner cooked by his father. Indeed, he could feel a little bit of anger boiling up inside at this thought. Well, he had always known that Altaїr was not quite as noble as he had appeared to be as of late. He was a selfish little boy.

"No" Altaїr then finally groaned and ruffled through his hair. "My father did this! I thought he wanted to cook for me because we would spend the evening together, but then he said he wanted to prepare dinner for us!"

"And why all this fancy decoration then?"

"So I can woo you." Altaїr laughed, but as he hid his face in his left palm he seemed rather embarrassed and Malik could hardly stop himself from joining him in his laughter - and in feeling embarrassed himself. It did not happen often in a man’s life that their almost-ex-father in law would try to help his own son to woo his ex-partner.

"Well, of course, he would want to help you to woo me." He then chuckled before he pulled his chair from the table to sit down and have a smell at the delicious meal Umar had prepared. "He always liked me better." Altaїr would have kicked him if he would have been able to at all.

"Only because you are so boring, _everybody's darling_." He huffed as he gestured towards the food in that universal gesture that should tell him to grab some of it. Almost Malik expected him to again start asking about his lunch date with Jacob, but the question never came, instead there was silence for a moment as Malik was preparing his plate before Altaїr cleared his throat. He sounded a lot like there was something very uncomfortable following this sound. "But, you see, maybe it's good that we do have the chance to sit here and eat like this now." He sounded way too serious for Malik's liking. Usually, he was the serious one.

"Aha?" He made, urging Altaїr to go on, but at the same instant, he did not know what he would wish to hear now.

"I thought … Maybe because it will be the last time, you know?"

"Are you planning to leave the country tomorrow or are you going to drop dead tonight? I'm just asking so I can prepare the necessary steps. If it's the latter I would need to prepare your funeral, after all."

A frustrated huff of air was his answer and still Altaїr just sat there with crossed arms, looking everywhere but at Malik. It was almost cute. It was a lot as it had been in their teens when neither of them had known how to do the first step, but they were both itching to do so. "It's just … Well! Let's be honest here, Mal. You helped me a lot since we started living together again, but I do know now how to look after myself. I'm getting stronger every day and I learned how to cope with my situation. Thanks to you, mainly, and I am grateful for your help, but, I am aware that it cannot go on like this forever and I believe you know that just as well. Now that you and Jacob are dating, you will want to leave at one point and I decided … Well, maybe it would be good if we would end our little arrangement right away, you know? No hard feelings. I don't want to endanger our new found friendship and because of that-"

"Me and Jacob, that's not going to happen." Malik interrupted him because he felt otherwise Altaїr would never be able to find an end to his stammering. Even though this time he could indeed feel the anger boiling up inside.

"Yes, you said that before, but Malik-"

"No, you don't understand. Jacob already has a boyfriend."

※※※※※

The room was dark and silent and not even the light from outside could illuminate the two figures lying on the bed. Altaїr did not quite understand how it happened - only that it did and that he did not regret any of it. He most certainly did not regret the feverish kisses or Malik's touches. His head was resting on Malik's pillow and as he turned on his side to look at the man lying beside him, he noticed that Malik's eyes still rested upon him. "You know what?" Altaїr hummed before Malik slid closer and placed his hand on Altaїr's naked hip. He did not seem to care for the scars disfiguring Altaїr's body and though it was the first time, Altaїr himself did not care. First, he had been scared as Malik had kissed every little scar that Altaїr got from his accident, but the more Malik explored and found, the more he grew relaxed.

"What?" Malik hummed. His voice was deep and calm with a hint of sleep already lingering over them. In his mind, everything was still a mess and pure chaos, so choosing a whole different topic than their current situation would probably help Altaїr to set his mind at ease.

"I’ really not surprised that Connor is secretly dating Jacob." Altaїr found himself laughing. "Really, I'm not surprised. Of course, Connor would find a stray dog and fall in love with its owner. And of course, only someone like Jacob would let his dog go missing like this." No matter how coincidental all of this sounded to other people, to Altaїr this really was not as surprising as he felt it should be. Cologne was a big city, but apparently, still Connor had managed to find Jacobs's dog of all people before those two even met for the first time.

To him, the whole idea of Connor being with someone was quite odd. Sure thing, he was gentle and a very loving person, but somehow Altaїr just never saw Connor being in a romantic relationship with anyone. Maybe this was not the moment to think about Connor's love life now anyway. He only noted to himself that he would need to make sure that he would let Connor suffer a bit for not telling him. Connor had sat back all relaxed and watched how Altaїr grew more and more itchy and jealous by the mere thought that Malik could fall in love with Jacob. The trust that Connor had put into Jacob and their relationship were evident by the lack of care he had portrayed. Now the more important person he should focus his mind on was lying next to him in this dark room and Altaїr felt oddly calm being with Malik here, facing him and lying naked in his bed as they once did when they had still been a couple. It felt normal and as Malik was pulling him closer again, he did not feel the urge to fight back - and why should he?

Their dinner had ended in absolute chaos. After Malik had told him the story of his lunch date with Jacob where the Brit had finally confessed his relationship status before Malik could fall for him or try to do anything that could, later on, harm their friendship, Altaїr had wanted to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of this situation, but things quickly turned sour. And in retrospect, Altaїr could indeed understand why Malik had gotten angry over the fact that Altaїr had already planned on throwing him out of their new house.

"So, you wanted to throw me out then, right?" Malik hummed against his forehead before he pinched the sensitive skin over his right eyebrow with his teeth.

"Well, no… I would not have thrown you out … I mean … Well, I would have left you enough time to move in with Jacob or something." Altaїr replied with a faint grin as he tried to defend his motivation. He wished he would be able to move his legs because if he would, now would be the moment he would have caught Malik with his legs to never let him go again. For a moment he even thought about Connor's motivation in all this. Had he maybe not told him anything because he had wanted Altaїr to go mad with jealousy so they would end up together again? It would be quite possible, knowing Connor and all.

"You mean after a couple of _dates_ you would have expected me to move in with my new lover?" Malik then laughed and Altaїr enjoyed feeling Malik's hot breath against his forehead like this. They had never really been the cuddling types, or at least not after sex, as weird as it was and Altaїr still did not quite know if what they had done this night could be counted as sex anyway. It had felt good, somehow, though and he still felt somewhat exhausted from it. At least Malik had helped him with getting rid of unnecessary thoughts in the process of their little wrestling over here in that past few hours. Not having his skin responding the way it used to when it was touched was odd, but it was true what Connor had once told him and that the arousing factor of all of this mostly happened in the brain anyway.

"I just wanted you to be happy, don't be mad." Altaїr grinned as a response, but Malik repaid it with kicking him against the shin and Altaїr flinched heavily, producing a little "Ouch!" to tease Malik. "What? I mean it!" Altaїr laughed a little as he wound his own left arm around Malik’s back. "I mean, you are aware that we will never have a future together, right? You are aware that one of us will die a horrible, horrible death, if we should decide on getting back together for real, right?" And as Malik kicked him again as a response to Altaїr's ominous little warning, he flinched again, though this time, he did so for real. "Ouch!"

"Don't worry, I already made my last will and hid it somewhere you will not find it, you little gold-digger. You know what? But I must agree, we will make a horrible couple. There is no way that we won’t kill each other sooner or later." Altaїr however, huffed at this response and stole a small kiss from Malik's lips, before he rubbed the leg Malik had so violently kicked two times in a row now. "Oh, don't be a baby, baby." Malik laughed.

"No, I mean it!" Altaїr squeaked and quickly moved away from Malik to sit up as best he could at the moment, maybe even to get away from this horrible man and protect his body from further harm, even though he did so with a little grin on his face. "It actually hurt."


	18. Epilog

The sweet smell of the hookah was washed away by the mild breeze brushing over the garden of Masyaf castle. Thy sky was a bright azure blue with no cloud lingering about and a few birds peacefully circling over the fortress. Not often Altaїr found the time to sit here and relax over a game of chess with his right-hand man as of late, but that was exactly the reason why he valued the times he found to do so all the more.

This chair on wheels that he had sketched out a while ago to have it constructed by the best carpenter in the village (to whom he was still indebted for years now and only ever took his orders with a grain of salt and a bitter expression on his face), was of great service to the youngest Mentor of the Assassin Brotherhood there in history, a title which he would gladly shout from the rooftops of Masyaf if he would have still been able to climb that high.

After everything that had happened, it seemed weird that he and Malik would find themselves in a situation like this again, sitting here as if nothing had happened at all, as if they had just woken up this morning like they did on every other day and ventured down in the gardens to have a moment to themselves before the rest of the world would try to tear them apart again. The reality was, however, that this whole ordeal with Abbas and his little revolution was still fresh on everyone's minds.

Not yet a month had passed since Altaїr, after over two years of exile, had finally managed to get back the Brotherhood and destroy Abbas’ regime of terror and ignorance once and for all. Looking back now, he wanted to say that it had been easy to execute Abbas for his betrayal and all the crimes he had committed, but this would be a lie.

"Carriages made of metal that do not need horses to be pulled, you say?" Malik huffed after he had taken another pull of the hookah and looked at him fleetingly. No matter what others might think, Altaїr would never make the mistake of questioning Malik's attention on the game. He might be the mentor of this brotherhood and in charge of everything, but Malik usually beat him in their little games. "Little black boxes that are able to produce music and are even able to show moving pictures of the world? I think, my friend, you should shorten your sessions with the hookah and the Apple."

Altaїr laughed as he took a pull of the hookah himself, held the smoke for a moment and then blew it out through his nostrils like an angry bull. He loved those lazy little hours he had with Malik from time to time and so he found himself leaning back on his elbows a bit, with his long legs resting uselessly on the ground that was covered in the most colorful carpets. Soon the gardens of the fortress would be swarmed with people again and Altaїr did not really mind because then he would be up in his office again anyway. By now he got used to relying on his novices and the other Assassins in getting him upstairs, though he had changed rooms to not make it any more difficult than necessary for everyone involved in this.

During Abbas’ reign, Masyaf had been a dull, gray and sad place to be. No music in the streets of the village, no laughter, no love. There had only been fear of punishment and silence lingering in the air as Malik and Altaїr came back from their exile. Two years were not exactly a long time, but they could feel like an eternity when one was faced with uncertainty. Out there Altaїr's life had been a lot more difficult than it had been here within the walls of Masyaf because of his condition and more than once, Altaїr had feared he would perish out there and - which would only have made it worse - that he would drag Malik down with him once again.

To him, it was still an enigma how they managed to live through the obstacles that had been thrown their way.

After his fall from the tower it had not taken long for Altaїr and Malik to uncover the truth behind it all because since Altaїr could not remember the moment of his fall itself till this day, Abbas had been a few steps ahead of them the entire time. And after they finally managed to uncover everything, Abbas had already been in charge. During their exile, Altaїr had more than once asked himself if he should have stayed and fight to the death against this man or if he had made the right decision in running off with Malik instead. Abbas had never been one to be loved by everyone in the Brotherhood, but having a cripple as their leader had helped him greatly. Abbas was a manipulator and he had found the right people to easily manipulate in this game he had been playing since Al Mualim's death. That Altaїr had killed one of the novices, Naim, whose entire family belonged to the Brotherhood, had only been the straw which broke the camel's back and so the only chance to survive and come back later had been to flee before the angry mob could have gotten to them.

Looking back now it seemed all of this had been ten years ago. A few months had passed since Malik and he had managed to kill Abbas and get the Brotherhood back, and already Masyaf felt as if nothing had ever happened. Yet, a part of him felt guilty still. Abbas and he had been friends a long, long time ago, close as brothers even, but Altaїr had ruined everything in telling him the truth just because he had thought it was the right thing to do and had not listened to his Mentor who had known better than him.

"No, I tell you, Malik, that's what's going to happen. But I don't know when exactly." He grinned as he looked at the former Dai. He knew that Malik had a hard time trusting the peace around them and Altaїr could understand how he felt. He too almost expected an angry mob to come and lynch them and he knew that Malik still had troubles sleeping even with the door locked.

"Well, if the Apple has shown this to you … After all, it showed you the plans for this chair too, I guess." Malik sighed and shrugged his broad shoulders. "But still, you cannot deny that all of this sounds absolutely fantastic."

"I never said it didn't, my friend." Altaїr laughed as he placed his next chess piece on the board, very well knowing that this would be his doom. Well, he guessed, it was time to end this and get back to work. He wondered what Al Mualim would have said if he could see them now, smoking hookah before even doing their work. Soon the novices would bring piles and piles of paperwork to his desk again for sure.

"And what about us? I mean … The _We_ in the future you saw."

Altaїr only smirked as Malik beat his king with his next move and looked up to the sky once more. He could see one of the eagles of the fortress circling high above the highest tower where once his room had been. Maybe it was the one Altaїr used to feed from time to time. Sometimes it still came to visit him through the big window of the office, sitting on one of the wooden shelves to scare the novices away with a loud screech. "Well, they are a weird couple." He grinned. "But I think they will be fine."


End file.
